


i'd walk this aisle barefoot

by mysticTwirl



Series: darling, you're a poet (you don't even know it) [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adulthood, Bokuto's Current Concern, Canon Compliant, Domestic Boyfriends, Editor Akaashi Keiji, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Novel inspired, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, See beginning notes, Udai Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticTwirl/pseuds/mysticTwirl
Summary: "Uh, I might be in a situation right now," Bokuto moves to locate his phone, Akaashi follows in pursuit."What type of situation?" he's on alert, shoulders tense and frown visible."Well, I might have accidentally," Bokuto looks at him sheepishly, like a child caught doing something wrong, "become a meme.""A meme," his boyfriend echoes back.Udai doesn't believe in love, but between pro-volleyball players and grand declarations of affection, he figures they come the closest.(or Akaashi finds that bravery comes easier when something is worth fighting for, and Bokuto learns how to do the taxes.)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Udai Tenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Udai Tenma
Series: darling, you're a poet (you don't even know it) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821622
Comments: 37
Kudos: 490
Collections: Bokuto Week 2020





	i'd walk this aisle barefoot

**Author's Note:**

> This is best read after [tiptoes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482535), and will reference [raining](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146085), if you opt to read this first, know that it’s canon that Zom’bish (Udai’s manga) has been cancelled. Our couple is also now publicly out with their relationship.
> 
> See Bokuto’s updated stat sheet and current concern [here](https://twitter.com/Atsumu420/status/1290315771977981954?s=20), (he doesn't really understand taxes). 
> 
> This is inspired by the light novel, which is official but not canon, there are no English translations, but some tweets give brief summaries. This is for [Udai & Akaashi](https://twitter.com/tsukkisachi/status/1290600121101512704?s=20&fbclid=IwAR0anYVCrymmqyyb6WK66DvpNh6hS67B30ZmT1C1oYHwylsaMcsgLY0l6U4), [Zombish’s plot](https://twitter.com/akaashii_keiji/status/1290747571187494913?s=20&fbclid=IwAR0anYVCrymmqyyb6WK66DvpNh6hS67B30ZmT1C1oYHwylsaMcsgLY0l6U4), [Jackal’s Fanmeet](https://twitter.com/pala_bora/status/1290628327368138752?s=20&fbclid=IwAR0anYVCrymmqyyb6WK66DvpNh6hS67B30ZmT1C1oYHwylsaMcsgLY0l6U4). No need to know this fully, just for context.
> 
> And shoutout to [mogio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crone_zone) for the tweet format inspo! 
> 
> Enjoy!

**_not a tsumu f*cker_** 👅 **@msbyb00ty**  
current concern: @bokutobeam, olympian and god of thighs, may have just admitted to tax fraud on the latest issue of @VolleyballMonthlyMagazine  
836🗨️ 1.6K⟲ 5.2K♡  
⟲ retweeted by _**its vollyeballz idiots**_ , _**jackals superiority**_ , and 5.2K others

I am in trouble, Bokuto thinks, as he scrolls through his social media. He is one foot into entering the apartment and can already hear the faint sound of metal hitting hardwood from the inside. The number of retweets cause him to pause, and momentarily he stands dumbfounded in between steps.

"Koutarou," his boyfriend calls from a distance, it's a tiny space and easy to deduce that he's in the kitchenette; he must have heard the door open.

Bokuto remembers to focus on the task at hand so he wills himself to put his phone down and make his way into the apartment; remove his shoes, set his bag, and find his boyfriend.

Akaashi is on the floor, surrounded by a range of metal tools, before him is an open bottom cabinet, which he studies with his phone flashlight. He looks agitated, it's the look he gets when he's given a problem he can't decipher.

Bokuto hears a _drip_ , then a _drop_. Ah, a leaky faucet.

It's the charms of Akaashi's rented studio apartment, the one that the not-so-fresh graduate holds a love-hate relationship with. It's a piece of work for barely any reward and it manages to bring out the beast in his boyfriend, Bokuto finds it somewhat endearing.

Akaashi holds the light of his phone against the metal looking for something, anything, to point him to the source of his problems. Above him, three drops fall, mockingly.

"You seem busy there, love," Bokuto says as greeting. The landlord lives three floors up but also has the habit of talking about their niece whenever Akaashi requests for assistance, well at least until recent revelations. It's due to pure spite that he's trying to solve this issue on his own; a faucet versus a university graduate, who will win.

Akaashi squints at him, forehead coated in a sheen of sweat, Bokuto leans down to give it a kiss. "If it's broken again, maybe it's time to admit that you need help."

Akaashi mutters his protests but stands to properly envelope him in an embrace, Bokuto leans into his neck with a satisfied hum. Arms around his waist, he smells a faint scent of citrus and moisture.

All too soon the moment is ruined by another drip, Akaashi groans into his chest and Bokuto pats his back good-naturedly. He already knows that his boyfriend will worry about the wasted water, the moisture stains on the furniture, and the way the sound echoes through the small space.

"Let me help you with that," Bokuto offers, already breaking from their embrace to take Akaashi's former place on the floor. He looks at his arsenal on hand, more than half of the tools are unhelpful, it doesn’t surprise him.

"You know how to fix faucets?" Akaashi kneels down to observe the athlete, who has selected a wrench and is sorting through the pipes.

"I am a lot more useful than you think, Ji," he grins happily when he locates the source of their woes. Twist, twist, until he gets it done.

Eventually the drip drops cease, and Akaashi looks visibly relieved at the sound's absence. Bokuto has only been gone for five days, how long had he suffered without him.

"Thank you, love, you're wonderful really," Akaashi looks way too pleased over a simple fix, but Bokuto won't complain to being the receiving end of such an affectionate look.

For a moment their eyes meet, sunlight shines through creaky windows while they sit on old wooden floors, Bokuto feels like he's just come home. From across the space, his phone buzzes increasingly, demanding attention.

Oh, reality is calling.

"Uh, I might be in a situation right now," he stands up and moves to locate the device, Akaashi follows in pursuit.

"What type of situation?" Akaashi is already on alert, shoulders tense and frown visible.

"Well, I might have accidentally," Bokuto looks at him sheepishly, like a child caught doing something wrong, "become a meme."

"A meme," his boyfriend echoes back.

"It's, uh, easier if I just showed you," Bokuto fishes for his phone, opens the dreaded bird app to show that he is currently on trending.

**_feral fic 📌_** **@fkrdn_luver**  
Taxes? Who is she? Bokuto Koutarou wouldn't know  
102🗨️ 600K⟲ 1.3K♡  
⟲ retweeted by _**tommy san stan**_ , _**wanted: athletic trainer**_ , _**sakusa say rawr,**_ and 5.2K others

Akaashi reads out loud, devoid of dictation, the tweet is accompanied by a gif of an American woman walking away from fire, how peculiar.

**_spam | offseason strugglez_** **@lickypeas**  
Where have all the good men gone? You think you know someone, then suddenly they come out... as a TAX EVADER. @bokutobeam WHY!  
401🗨️ 2.7K⟲ 4.8K♡  
⟲ retweeted by _**curry power service ac** **e**_ , _**rice rice baby,**_ and 5.2K others

Akaashi reads the next tweet with the same monotone voice; the user is being complimented on their wittiness and this does not sit well will him.

There are dozens of variations of the same tax evader joke, someone even made a montage of volleyball athletes to 'determine' who would be the next one exposed. It’s mostly good natured, just fans looking for entertainment during the off-season, but the premise is ridiculous.

"Koutarou," Akaashi starts slowly, trying to decipher the influx of emojis, hashtags, and fancams on his feed, "you pay your taxes."

He does not wish to end the statement with a question mark. They were not too privy to each other's finances, although their income disparity is no secret, but he is sure, no, certain that his boyfriend is financially compliant.

Cynically, he knows that celebrities have access to certain leeway that aid the rich in getting richer. Taxes were managed by financial experts that controlled the system and worked around the rules, it would be possible to hire someone to manipulate the numbers.

"Don't think so hard, Keiji! I do file my taxes," Bokuto whines. He grabs his phone before it gives his boyfriend other ideas, why was everyone so quick to deem him a criminal.

"Of course, I know that," _thank god_ , is what he doesn't say, "so explain to me how this all happened."

Bokuto pulls out a copy of Volleyball Monthly from his bag, notably he's on the cover sporting his MSBY Jackals jersey, the cover says, _Special Feature: A Look Into Bokuto Koutarou_. He turns to the offending page, a widespread of his profile and career highlights, on the side, the fated interview.

> _I: Now, Bokuto-san, I am sure your fans are curious to know, with all that's going on with you right now, what is your current concern?_
> 
> _B: Well, I am not really sure about taxes and, uh, all that._

Ah, Akaashi's mind registers, the age of good journalism has long gone. He looks through the feature article, critically going through the content and formatting like university has trained him to do.

"They did you so dirty," he offers gravely.

"I know! I made a mistake, they should have edited it to something cooler or left it out, I sound like a dumbass," Bokuto whines.

"Your stats," Akaashi interrupts, "are so understated. What type of analytics deemed your jump and speed less than perfect. And your strategy, now that's just insulting, I can't believe-"

"What," Bokuto looks to him, "that's not the problem, my fans are making memes of me,"

"And some volleyball analysts are clearly inept in their work," Akaashi insists, "you are Japan's ace and a renowned trailblazer in volleyball, they were clearly more critical with judging your abilities. I don't understand why, they seem to be very generous with other players-"

"Keeeei-ji," he whines, "you're completely missing the point," Bokuto tries to gain his attention but he seems engrossed with the magazine. Akaashi is in work-mode, nitpicking items and cursing comments underneath his breathe.

In his hand, Bokuto's phone buzzes. A text message from the Jackals' PR team warning that they'll release a statement to comment on these so-called allegations.

His twitter notifications are getting increasingly hard to ignore, some of the comments are actually really funny. It's a new era, and tax fraud is just another of its many woes.

Akaashi is completely engrossed in the magazine, reading the interview from top to bottom as if he weren't the number one witness to those very details. It's does something to Bokuto, to know that even after years of companionship, his boyfriend is still very much into him.

A buzz.

**_MSBY Black Jackals Official_** **@msby_official**  
The team would like to issue an official statement to clarify @bokutobeam's comment in @VolleyballMonthlyMagazine, to state that he meant no malice, and was simply confused with the process of taxation. Rest assured, all our players are held accountable and compliant with the law.  
12🗨️ 116⟲ 207♡

> **_Captain Jackal #4_** **@meian_shugo**  
>  @bokutobeam is a good man. We are happy to clarify that this was a simple misunderstanding. Apologies for the confusion.  
>  1🗨️ 3⟲ 12♡
> 
> **_meet me at the beach_** **@ninjashouyou**  
>  bokuto-senpai is innocent!! hed always do whats right for japan!!!  
>  3🗨️ 1⟲ 24♡
> 
> _**tri-wielder👅👅👅**_ **@bettermiya**  
>  thought theyd getcha this time but yer safe today **😈😈😈**  
>  8🗨️ 10⟲ 32♡

Now it's his turn, he quote retweets the statement with his own caption.

**_BEAM WEAPON🌟_** ** _🦉_** **@bokutobeam**  
me **🤝** the working class  
being confused with taxes and adult stuff  
0🗨️ 1⟲ 2♡

> **_MSBY Black Jackals Official_** **@msby_official**  
>  The team would like to issue an official...

**_BEAM WEAPON🌟_** ** _🦉_** **@bokutobeam**  
Sorry for the stirr up everybody! I am proudly a law-abiding citizen. I just get confused with these things sometimes:D  
8🗨️ 9⟲ 12♡

> **_make me write pls_** **@mira_writes**  
>  WE STAN A RELATABLE KING  
>  0🗨️ 0⟲ 2♡
> 
> **_current concern: tax invasion_** **@beambeliever**  
>  @bokutobeam is the adult i want to be when i grow up  
>  1🗨️ 0⟲ 0♡
> 
> **_b*d s*x rights for all_** **@astralsupremacy**  
>  very sweet and honest, that's our Bokuto!!  
>  1🗨️ 2⟲ 3♡

Crisis averted, Bokuto thinks, as he watches the on-pour of support and friendly banter. The likes come in like lightning, so he is quick to mute the tweet, but his eyes catch onto another reply.

> **_👽👽👽_** **@m44dpie72**  
>  hes a menace to society. first he brings us shame now hes a criminal.  
>  3🗨️ 0⟲ 0♡

The comment instantly gets replies from legions of fans condemning the hater of their conduct. Choruses of gtfo and other nasty things come to his defense, his fans have been working overtime.

All in a day's work, their PR has been quick to respond to any form of negativity, even for something as simple as a meme. Bokuto knows that they're being careful for his sake, and is grateful really.

He observes his boyfriend, who has settled onto the couch, very much still engrossed in the article. They've been on the media’s radar lately, for better rather than for worst, following a very public display of affection. They've handled it with dignity and the public seemed to gravitate towards their love story, even calling them the #BeamTeam and proclaiming them to be volleyball's superior couple.

The world is weird, Bokuto laments. It's a lot to process and he's more than willing to follow any instruction from public relations as they strive to reclaim his sense of privacy. Keep talk to volleyball, don't answer questions defensively, and make fans feel like everything is normal.

But it's everything but normal, their lives have been completely altered and their normal in no more. Media has been kind, fans are patient, and Akaashi is brave.

"Crisis averted," he calls out, but Akaashi seems to not care about his financial integrity, he isn't the type to frequent social media.

Bokuto sits beside him, lets Akaashi tuck himself underneath his side, knees to his thigh, head on his shoulder. He's tracing the printed image of Bokuto in the spread, engrossed in the finer details of his form.

"Hey hey, if you're going to be staring at me, you might as well look at the real deal," he offers cheekily.

Akaashi flips the magazine close so that the Bokuto on the cover is staring at them, wide-eyed grin with a hint of victory, he presses his palm on the paper.

"You," he starts, "are so hot."

He says it so nonchalantly, it causes Bokuto's brain to short circuit, "Y-yes, I guess I am."

"Why were taxes on your mind during this interview?" Again, Bokuto is blindsided, why did Akaashi have to be so weird.

"Just thinking about adulting and," he chokes, "other stuff." If Akaashi suspects anything, he doesn't show any indication. He strokes cover-Bokuto's cheek fondly, real-Bokuto feels jealous.

"I've just come home, please pay attention to me, love," he buries his face into Akaashi's black curls and breathes him in, sweat and citrus. Akaashi hums in reply, at once, he throws the magazine onto the coffee table and flips his body to set himself in between Bokuto's lap.

He straddles against him, noting the surprised look on the athlete's face, and leans down to whisper, "Thank you for fixing my faucet."

Bokuto can only mumble a short no problem before Akaashi's lips are on his.

.

The only thing consistent in chaos is change. That's the mantra going through Akaashi's mind as he struggles through his third night of overtime. The days have been long, and the nights even longer, time has turned the office into a prison.

He looks to his companion, Udai Tenma, sitting across him, surround by stacks of paper, ink, and material. The older man has long abandoned caffeine and energy drinks, tonight he runs on sheer desperation.

His eye bags are more pronounced, rivaling the zombies he's been painstakingly illustrating. But he looks far from dead, in fact, his eyes hold a glimmer of spirit that reminded Akaashi so much of the intensity on court.

It's impossible to unlearn what it feels to connect with five other people for a shared purpose. In volleyball, each play is made probable because of how every individual effort comes together. There is no spike without receive, no block without a serve, and tonight, there will be no manga without sacrifice.

It's unfair to deem this a prison if Akaashi is a willing captive. The mangaka had repeatedly told him to leave two days ago, and he had only stopped asking when Akaashi, in a fit of annoyance, dropped the _-san_ when proclaiming that he was staying no matter what. They were both in this, it was his battle too.

Akaashi had been startled by his own momentary lapse of respect but Udai had looked at him fondly, "Took you long enough, Akaashi. Thank you."

And that settled it, Akaashi is deeply invested in saving Zombie Knight Zom'bish from a premature demise. He had settled into his role as editor, gone through every idea Udai had imagined, and did his due diligence to research to bridge each gap.

He knows that the rest lies in Udai's abilities, he is the playmaker, the leader who takes center stage in the execution of their vision. Akaashi is content to play his role, there are many things he cannot control, desires that he must part with. But he can execute his duty to the best of his abilities, one-hundred twenty percent, never any less.

When the countdown had started and Akaashi joined the race towards their deadline, his hands started to shake, and his vision became blurry. Udai noticed his distress and ordered him to go home. It was a tempting offer, knowing that he would simply be assigned to another manga if he came back to find Zom'bish cancelled; it would bear no personal consequences. But instead, Akaashi had asked for half an hour to regain his bearings and retreated into an empty work room with the promise of coming back stronger.

He is afraid, he quickly acknowledges the fear. He buries his face into his hands and slumps his body down, a large exhale leaves his lungs, he wants to scream.

It's the first project he's worked on since employment. He thinks of Sato, Noriaki, Zovish- the zombie boy who wished to become human, and how he had painstakingly analyzed their character profiles to craft them into beautiful narratives. He had gone through great lengths to connect to each one, that's just how Akaashi's heart worked. How could it all end so soon.

If Zom'bish were to be cancelled, Zovish, bright eyes like a star, will never regain humanity. It would have all been for nothing, the world would remain infested by the undead. If Zom'bish were cancelled, what would happen to Udai, his vision and story-

No, Akaashi tells himself, he straightens his back and wills his palms to stop shaking. One, two, three- inhale, one, two, three- exhale. He will not allow himself to spiral now, not when he's needed.

Akaashi brings his hands to his kneecaps to avoid them entangling, he has a bad habit to overcome. Then, he keeps his posture upwards so that he can breathe smoothly, let air circulate to clear his head. Finally, he sorts out his thoughts.

There are many things on his mind. First, the anxieties, fears, and big feelings associated with his emotional connection to the project. They claim his heart and whisper weakness into his system, but he won't allow it. His feelings make him strong; he just has to accept that they exist to motivate him. Will it into something positive- passion, drive, urgency.

Next, the influx of ideas, questions, and materials he wishes to understand to save their manga. It's a problem, so there must be a solution; maybe they aren't looking hard enough.

Akaashi wants to go through every detail, study every plot point, to find answers. The need to work makes him twitch in anticipation. But he knows that heading into it blindly will not be an efficient use of his headspace. He needs to focus, create a detailed plan to set the pace of his productivity. Akaashi is strong when he keeps control of himself, and today he will be victorious.

Lastly, Akaashi allows himself to think of volleyball. It's an indulgent thought in the midst of chaos but he has learnt to be kind to himself. He thinks about the overwhelming feeling of needing to control everything, of wanting to provide the perfect assistance to guarantee victory. Both are impossible, whether it be in a team or partnership, no one person controls where the cards fall.

He thinks about Bokuto, who is away in another country chasing his dreams. It's a different stage but he knows that his beloved is still listening to the same playlist they've curated to calm him pre-game, still looking for instances to connect to the crowd to keep motivated. He knows that Bokuto will approach every game with an intensity he's learned to hone, they had gone through it together.

 _Task focus_ , he tells himself.

 _Put your heart in each play_ , he can hear his partner chant back.

They are two sides to their school's banner, different goals with the same method.

With this in mind, Akaashi regains control of his thoughts and feels the tension ease within him. He's no stranger to fear, to the looming sense of do or die when entering the court or choosing to fight for something important. It's a bravery he's only started to awaken; Akaashi seeks Udai, pledges his assistance for the foreseeable future, and reassures him that they'll both be giving their best.

"It's just hard, not impossible," he recites to the mangaka, special words that hold personal significance, and today manage to draw a smile on Udai's face.

"You're right!" the mangaka's smile makes him sparkle.

.

“Look Akaashi,”

Akaashi turns to see his boyfriend holding a black T-shirt with yellow jagged lines on the side, on the chest bares the familiar MSBY Jackals logo. He knows that the back will contain a large number twelve and below-

“Yes, Bokuto-san," beneath the number is a name.

This name is on every shirt they've pulled from the box. Their pile steadily grows as they unfold variations of the same design; short sleeves, long sleeves, hoodies, all with the same print.

“They have children’s sizes,” Bokuto is currently holding a children’s small, not to be mistaken for an adult’s small, which is several inches bigger on all directions. The child’s garment has a neck hole that can barely fit his arm. It is so petite that the design is more condescend to the middle. The back, however, still contains the whole word, Bokuto.

“Yes, they do. Volleyball matches are attended by people of all ages, so the merchandise team is smart to capitalize on that.”

Bokuto hums in response, still taking in the children’s shirt. Akaashi knows that they’ll have the complete set of medium, large, and extra sizes due the company insisting on sending a sample of everything they plan to sell. Not that he is complaining, he was all too excited to rip the box open and find his size. Within seconds he had taken off his shirt and slipped into the new one, tags and stickers be damned.

Bokuto had blushed at his eagerness, caught between feeling flattered at the display and embarrassed over his unabashed enthusiasm.

“It’s an added responsibility, right? Having kids wear my name like this.”

Following the success of his debut match with the Jackals, Bokuto had become a fan favorite almost immediately after he was appointed a starter. It's still new to him, the reality that he is slowly gaining fame, the kind that most athletes could only hope to achieve within their career.

"You're a good role model, honest and excitable, kids are lucky to have you to look up to," Akaashi unfolds a size meant for a teenager, he briefly laments on how small he once was.

"I'll need to be at my best all the time," Bokuto declares.

"You're always at your best," Akaashi says plainly, "you're bright and wonderful, I've always known that, and finally the world is starting to take notice."

Bokuto is momentarily stunned at how earnestly Akaashi declares his sentiments, as if he had no doubts on the athlete's worthiness of receiving such high recognition. Bokuto has yet to fully comprehend the weight of being perceived by the world, but he's always been dignified by his boyfriend's undivided attention.

It's times like this where his unconditional support remained to be the athlete's prized treasure.

"Just be yourself," Akaashi adds, raising his arms to add an MSBY Bokuto hoodie to his outfit, the material is soft against his skin. "You have gotten where you are because you've never been afraid to show your truest self, that's what the fans love about you."

"Is that what you love about be too, Akaashi?" he asks just to see his boyfriend get flustered, and his red cheeks do not disappoint. It charms Bokuto to know that despite Akaashi’s outward praises, he still gets flustered from being directly confronted with his feelings.

“I might be a bit more biased,” he says curtly and moves to keep himself busy to avoid Bokuto’s knowing smile. Akaashi is sorting through his boyfriend’s merchandise, while being dressed head to toe in his name, and Bokuto feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Thank you, Ji, you always know what to say,” he thinks about how the crowds may one day choose to wear his name; he has a duty to be his truest form, that’s what they deserve.

Bokuto isn’t the type to ask for much, he’s already content with what the world has given him. He knows that he’s lucky to be on the verge of fame, playing a sport he so desperately loves, but when he sees his own name against the expanse of his boyfriend’s back, suddenly he wants to ask for just one more thing.

“I want to be myself too,” he offers, it’s a declaration to Akaashi and the world, but Bokuto has yet to decipher what he’s asking for. Akaashi doesn’t put much weight to the statement, it will be years before implications catch up.

Today, Bokuto imagines a whole stadium wearing the number twelve, choosing him among many players to admire and emulate. He may never grow to deserve their blind dedication and starry-eyed admiration of him.

But he thinks of his self-declared biggest fan, not in words but through actions, Akaashi has been with him through every step of the way and they’ve only just begun.

I want to be yours, he doesn’t say out loud, but he hopes to become somebody, not just an athlete, but a man worthy of this unconditional love.

Anybody else may have scoffed at Bokuto’s invitation to unwrap merchandise, but Akaashi had been the sentimental one leading up to its reveal. It’s my dream too, he had told him, I want to see you shine your brightest.

In less than a year, Bokuto will be blessed by the sight of hundreds wearing his name, then he’ll be confronted by the realization that he too would like to wear someone else’s name, preferably forever.

But today, Bokuto keeps his promise silent, he has the whole world in his Jackals’ room; he has long felt like he’s won.

“Let me fix that pile for you, Akaashi, I am really good at folding t-shirts,” he can clean his own messes, but Akaashi insists that they sort through it together.

“I don’t mind,” he tells him, I don’t mind this mess at all.

.

**_Shonen Vai_** **@shonenvai_official**  
It has been a wonderful run but we regret to announce that horror manga, Zombie Knight Zom'bish will conclude in the upcoming volume. We thank the fans for their continuous support and hope that they'll look forward to our future releases.  
191🗨️ 79⟲ 319♡  
⟲ retweeted by _**zovish deserves justice**_ , _**anime luver**_ , _**SEE YOU OCT 2,**_ and 76 others

Two coffees, Akaashi tells the waiter, then inwardly curses when he realizes that he has no clue to how Udai preferred his caffeine.

He hopes that the mangaka would chime in with the tidbit before the waiter leaves, but he remains dejected, coffee the furthest thing from his mind.

The smell of coffee had remained a sense of comfort to Akaashi post-graduation, it provided a sense of nostalgia from university workload and late-night half-drunk conversations on ideals and dreams.

He had chosen to bring Udai here on a whim; the mangaka had looked so distraught when he stumbled into the editor’s department. All complaints on the tip of his tongue quickly left when he realized the gravity of the situation.

“Have you eaten, Udai-san?” it’s a formality, he doubts his companion had prioritize sustenance during these trying times, he orders a muffin to accompany their drinks. He hopes its sugar will compensate for the incoming bitterness.

Less than a week ago, Akaashi had sported matching eyebags with the mangaka following a turbulent battle to save Zombie Knight Zom’bish from termination. It had been a caffeine-induced sprint to provide compelling evidence to plead their case.

They had mapped several plotlines to show where they could take the narrative and provided counterpoints to match criticism. They fought vigilantly, expanded their universe and drove the message of their work with a sincere belief that their story was worth telling.

But ultimately, they did not have the sales numbers to back them up. Their small but steady fanbase was not enough justification to continue the series; the material was good, but numbers spoke louder. Don't take it personally, came unsaid, but it didn't hurt any less.

And it was over, just like that Udai was given seven more weeks to write a conclusion to a story several years in the making. In just seven more releases, the characters will cease to exist, and some more profitable material will take its place to generate the numbers the directors were looking to find. Akaashi is not a man of economics, if he had been, he would have chosen a different career.

Akaashi had walked out of the meeting knowing that the results would be unfavorable, the board did say they would need time to ponder on the decision, but they could have discussed where to have lunch for all he cared. He gave his one-hundred twenty percent, and for what, it was a losing battle.

Well, he looks to a dejected Udai, it hadn't been for nothing.

"Your work-" Akaashi is well aware that he is not the best at comforting people, something about his tone and expression was ill-suited for sympathy. In this moment, he wishes he were Bokuto, always so earnest with his words, he would know what to say. But today, Udai only has Akaashi and it will have to do, "-it changed my life."

It's a dramatic sentiment but he hopes his sincerity will come through. "I am not saying this just because you're my superior, I truly mean that."

"I’ve spent more than half a year trying to understand everything you've created," he admits, "it wasn't easy, mostly because this was not the job I initially saw myself in but,"

Udai welcomed him into Shonen Vai because he had seen something in him, Akaashi can be vulnerable with the man who has only given him trust.

"Your characters have purpose and wisdom, your stories are meticulously constructed, even though you get over excited with the gruesome details, everything comes together," he lets it rush out. "I am always impressed by the work you do because you're willing to go the extra lengths to create something with meaning."

"I am not going to apologize for what the board decided, you don't deserve the pity. You've dedicated your time into creating something wonderful and I," Akaashi thinks of how much of a journey these past months have been, "I've become better for it."

"So, thank you, I am very lucky to have been under your care."

He ends his spiel with a bow, just so he doesn't have to read Udai's expression. The waiter comes back with their orders, a blueberry muffin sits in between them.

"How about you Akaashi, did you have any fun?"

He looks up to find Udai smiling, a stark contrast from his tear-stained face; he's starting to look more human.

"I did," Akaashi thinks of the train ride, the first time they've ever discussed volleyball, the secret sentiment he disclosed. "It was really fun."

He feels tears start to prickle but he blinks them away, now is Udai's time and he doesn't want to take away from his moment.

"Then I am glad, Akaashi-san. I had a lot of fun too," Udai brings the cup to take a sip, it's too bitter from the way he wrinkles his nose.

"I've known for a while now, but no one can fault me for not giving up," Udai admits, "it was difficult to accept, I was really distraught to see it all end but," the mangaka meets his eyes.

"I am glad I wasn't alone. Thank you for being here, Akaashi."

Akaashi has to grip both knees to will his emotions in, he is determined not to cry in front of his boss. For a moment, he feels like he's back on court, it's the final match of Spring High and Fukurodani has just lost, he also doesn't want to tell the man before him not to blame himself.

"If I may," he knows he doesn't need to ask for permission when it comes to Udai, respect is a force of habit, but the mangaka understands and gives an encouraging nod. "Just because your work is ending doesn't mean the story has to end."

He recites the advice he was given, a nod to his struggling university-self. "The characters are your own, they are extensions of you, and as long as you acknowledge this to be true, they continue to live on."

"It's your work, you willed it into existence and put it out into the world," Akaashi proclaims, "I know it will always exist within me."

A chuckle, "is it selfish that I am really happy to see you get worked up too?" Udai finally picks at the muffin, it's a bit too sweet for his liking, but his stomach is grateful.

"You've come a long way. I feel like I need to apologize for dragging you into this, getting you attached, then having it just stop. It's your first job and I wish it didn't have to end so bitterly."

"But I won’t apologize too," Udai declares, "I don't regret hiring you and I don’t regret anything we’ve created." Udai finds it easier to smile, his joints mildly protest when he straightens his back, but he feels a lot looser.

"I've always wanted to create something I could be proud of y’know. Something to put my passions into," he created something out of nothing, he did that. "I was my first fan and biggest critic, I wanted so desperately to get my work out there, to prove that my story was worth telling."

"And maybe I came short, or maybe there was nothing I could do, there's no shame in that," Udai can see how his words are affecting his editor, Akaashi looks like he's holding his emotions in, it makes him think of their night eating cow tongue. He's being brave, Udai is grateful.

"I am still going to create, I am still going to love the work I do," he declares again, he's speaking in a quaint cafe in the middle of a workday, he feels like he's addressing the world. "It might hurt again, it will definitely be hard, but I am not done."

"I've had so much fun too," Udai thinks about his zombies and heroes, how he's painstakingly imagined each one into existence. They were his companions throughout the years, and he knows that they'll never truly leave.

"It's an honor to be an artist, Akaashi," Udai would like to one day know what kind of literature his editor likes, what kind of genre did he prefer writing. "I've given my best; I think that’s what matters the most."

Grace in the face of failure, gratitude when the world takes back what it has given. Udai is no stranger to goodbyes and change.

"Do you think that Zovish will ever become human again?"

Their zombie boy character who sets on his own journey to regain their humanity. He was bitten by only half-turned, cursed with consciousnesses but trapped in a half-dead body. The forums find him quite grotesque, but Akaashi sees a star.

Zovish just wanted to be ordinary, the sentiment reminds him of someone he loves.

"I'd like to think that Zovish finds acceptance even without being normal," Udai is grinning now, the knowing glint in his eyes is meant to tease him, Akaashi pouts at this.

"He has a family now," Udai elaborates, "people who accept him for what he truly is. He wants to be normal and thinks that's what he needs. But what he really needs is to realize that he's worthy of love."

Akaashi immediately nods, then curses at his overenthusiasm. Udai laughs at his apparent bias, and Akaashi is relieved to see that he's less downtrodden.

"We'll be working harder than ever to conclude our story," Udai downs the coffee all at once, it has become lukewarm during their conversation. "Then, after we lick our wounds, there are several new ideas I want to research on."

Akaashi raises an eyebrow and sips on his own drink. He had assumed that he'll be permanently transferred under another mangaka following Zom'bish's cancellation- when had Udai been greenlit for another pitch?

"It'll be a lot different from our normal pace, but something tells me you'll enjoy our next venture," Udai gleefully takes a big bite of his muffin and crumbs get on his jacket.

"That is, if you aren't afraid for working with me again, Akaashi-san," Udai smiles at him, "I think it'll be nice to start from scratch this time, we can create something together."

Akaashi feels humbled at the prospect of being given more creative liberties, it's the closest to literature he will get, and he knows that the mangaka is aware of his desires. His quiet and patient mentorship is secretly Akaashi's favorite part of his job.

"I don't object to that," Akaashi takes another sip of his coffee, it puts him at ease, "I have nothing to be afraid of."

.

“Wow, what’s this, Bokuto-senpai?

The man in question turns to face his greatest disciple.

“Ah, she’s a beauty, right?” He grins at Hinata’s enthusiastic nod, “That’s a Jade plant, I’ve been taking care of her for a long time now.”

The succulent houseplant sits on top of his bedside table, a short distance away from the window. The leaves are oval-shaped and a dark shade of green, clusters peak from short stems, rooted into a small white pot.

“I didn’t know you were into gardening,” Hinata proclaims as he admires the budding life in his senpai’s dorm room. The statement is an exaggeration considering that the small pot is the only one within the space.

“I actually got it from a fan,” Bokuto admits, “a young girl gave it to me, she said it would bring me luck and fortune, what a kind gesture!”

Bokuto remembers the day fondly, it had been after a match. He was approached by the child and her mother, and the seedling was entrusted to him by small hands. The young girl excitedly babbled instructions- it needs lots of sunlight, just the right amount of water, and dry soil in between.

Her mother apologized for her enthusiasm and noted that it would be presumptuous to assume that an athlete would have time for plant care.

“But it’s for luck!” the child angrily objected, and Bokuto felt humbled by her well-wishes.

He bent down to meet her eyes, extended his pinky, and sealed his promise.

“I will take good care of your gift, thank you very much!”

Despite the PR team reassuring him that he was under no obligation to actually take the plant home, Bokuto rose to the responsibility.

The Jade plant is not high maintenance. Due to the limitations of its pot, it was never meant to grow beyond a few inches from its initial height. It added a splash of color to his room and demanded no more than a few minutes of his time, a total win.

In the beginning, Bokuto would sometimes forget to water his companion and would mourn each fallen leaf. At times, he'd neglect to pull up his blinds, so sunlight didn’t reach his room, also to the plant’s detriment. But over time, he learned to integrate these simple steps into his routine and even took the effort to wipe their leaves to keep the plant nice and shiny.

Bokuto had once read online that Jade plants can live for years as long as they are given proper care; he hopes to do his fan justice.

“And you’ve taken care of her for this long, that’s really responsible, senpai,” comes Hinata’s praise. Bokuto looks to his companion with pride, she’s healthy and thriving.

“If you put effort into the things that matter,” he states with reverence, feeling satisfaction at Hinata’s _so cool_ , “slowly you’ll see what you care about grow over time.”

.

Following a very dramatic (and very public) display of affection, Udai and Akaashi retreat to watch the post-match press conference in a pub, a safe distance away from the crazy.

The conference itself is held in a private room within the stadium, open only to media and management. The newly crowned champions, the Jackals, sit in a row and answer questions.

The press is respectful enough to keep the bulk of the interview professional. Captain Meian speaks on strategies, team dynamics, and training secrets that have contributed to their victory.

The rookies get their chance to speak on their experience and integration with the team, Atsumu is commended on his setting, and Bokuto is asked to recount their most impressive plays.

There's an unspoken rule within media that the last fifteen minutes of every interview is free ball. Reporters may opt to ask any question and athletes know to be on high alert. They don't waste any time.

"This question is for Bokuto-san," the athlete instantly straightens, "I am sure the fans want to know, was that man your significant other?"

Three blocks away, Akaashi cringes at the bluntness of the reporter's question. Direct and without tact, there's a reason to why he had hated aspiring journalists during university.

"That man," Bokuto remembers the frantic advices being thrown at him by PR before he was ushered into the room- _do not show fear, answer questions curtly_. "I've been in love with him since high school."

The declaration immediately causes chatter, behind the scenes, the Jackals' public relations team hold their breath.

"He's my best friend and partner, I've been in a very happy relationship for a long time now. I am hoping that the public will respect our love," he bows towards the media, and this time, reporters abandon discretion and rush to take pictures.

Olympian and star athlete, Bokuto Koutarou, earnestly bows to Japan and asks for the public's blessing.

The display is unheard of from a celebrity, far from the manly persona athletes wish to depict. Bokuto could have refused the question, or given a roundabout answer, he did not owe anybody anything. _And yet,_

_I want to be myself_ , Akaashi remembers his partner saying, a promise to the world to be at his best and truest form. He feels his heart constrict; they've come so far.

"Wow," Udai gasps, and Akaashi immediately remembers that he's still on professional duty, "you're actually high school sweethearts, that's almost too cute."

Normally, Akaashi would have the decency to look embarrassed, but his boyfriend has just declared their love to all of Japan. Between this pub and the rest of the world, he is in a safe space.

 _"He was my high school setter, the first person to believe in me! I wasn't the same person in high school, I struggled a lot, but he helped me realize that volleyball is fun,"_ Bokuto declares from the screen _, "I am so lucky to have someone who gets me."_

Bokuto might be oversharing the fine details of their relationship but surprisingly, Akaashi’s thoughts don't spiral. He's relieved to have Bokuto put into words their actions so that fans don't misconstrue their relationship into a hormone-induced display.

What they showed was real, if they were going to face consequences, they might as well present their truest form.

"Akaashi I," Udai looks to him seriously, and for a moment Akaashi expects judgement, "how am I supposed to deal with this?"

Before Akaashi can panic, Udai dramatically grips his heart and squeezes his chest, eyes closed in an exaggerated motion. "This is the cutest thing I've ever seen, am I supposed to believe love exists now?"

Akaashi almost misses the layer of professionalism between them. "I can't deal with this shoujo-esque declaration of love. It's not my genre, please take responsibility Akaashi-san."

The editor feels the tips of his ears burn, he wants to melt onto the floor, why did his superior have such a flair for the dramatic.

"I can assure you that Bokuto-san and I are quite the normal couple."

"I'll believe in your normal when I see less of this dramatic pinning, public declarations of love, and _adorable_ displays," Udai says adorable like the term has personally offended him, his demeanor is reminiscent of how their high school team reacted to their antics. So, this was the effect they had on people.

"For professionalism's sake, I will keep these displays private from now on," Akaashi offers and Udai scoffs in return.

"I'll have Bokuto-kun treat me to dinner again to compensate for all the affection I'll be subjected to," Udai declares, and the implications aren't lost to Akaashi, there will be a next time.

The screen calls out again, _"The Jackals don't discriminate and Bokuto-kun is a wonderful player,"_ Meian firmly proclaims _. "We fully respect his decision to share this intimate detail with the public. We will proudly defend our own if there be any backlash."_ A chorus of agreements and cheers come from the other players, a sure violation of media protocol.

Udai and Akaashi continue to watch the interview. Despite initial interest, other topics get brought up, including the captain's upcoming wedding, off-season plans, and an apparent rivalry against certain players from the Adlers. In the eyes of the media, even the biggest revelations manage to hold only fleeting attention.

Akaashi exhales, this is it, the terror they had chosen to confront. The answer to a question Bokuto hadn't known he asked, a resolution Akaashi didn't know he could give.

"They'll be finishing up soon, should we head back?" Udai offers and moves to pay for the drinks they consumed.

When they exit the pub, it will still be the same world. Maybe a bit scarier, but also a bit clearer. Like a light switch has been turned on, the night terrors have retreated and what remains are the shadows; still mysterious but decipherable over time.

It feels like an ending. Akaashi had given his comfort to the world, traded his safe space for permission to exist under public scrutiny. He had broken his estate's walls and invited the zombies in.

"Let's go, there's a restaurant Koutarou wants us to try."

But it also feels like a beginning, setting himself free of metaphorical barriers. They can now exist outside their estate; grow and claim new spaces as their own. It's a relief he never thought he would have.

"I can't wait!"

.

When Akaashi gets back to his apartment, the lights are already on.

"I thought you were staying at the dorms tonight."

He's touched by the sentiment and not even surprised by his boyfriend's uncanny ability to appear right when needed. The apartment smells like curry, and not the stale smell of takeout, but the actual richness that comes from a home cooked meal.

"Welcome home," Bokuto calls, untying an apron from his waist; Akaashi didn’t even know he had an apron in his apartment. His boyfriend comes to him with purpose, three long strides until he takes him into his arms.

"I am home," Akaashi says to his chest, Bokuto's arms envelop his sides, warm and welcoming. It’s a relief to feel human touch after an emotionally taxing day, he lets himself unwind.

"How was your day?" Akaashi asks, he knows that Bokuto will be inching to ask about the finer points of his day, but he wants to check on his companion first.

"Conditioning with the national team is different," Bokuto mumbles into his hair, "it's not bad, just some getting used to."

Akaashi doesn't reply, he buries his nose into his boyfriend's chest and takes in his presence. It never fails to move him, the unbelievable kindness that compels his partner to venture across the prefecture to join him in his shitty studio apartment. Time together is scarce as the National Team gears towards the World Cup, and here is Japan's ace cooking a meal for him to come home to.

"It's over," they've already discussed this prior, Akaashi had been unable to attend their nightly phone calls due to overtime, "they just told him today."

"How's Udai-san?" Akaashi thinks of coffee and hard conversations, the hopeful glow the mangaka had as they headed back to the office. The next few weeks will be hard for Udai, and he'll have to reconcile with the heartbreak alone but,

"He will be okay," Akaashi believes, "it’ll be hard, but he is strong."

"Yes, he is," Bokuto acknowledges, "and how about you, Keiji, how are you feeling?"

Akaashi is tired, worn out like a garment coming out of the wash, still dripping with moisture, and feeling the aftereffects of turbulence. He wants to lay in a puddle and seep, and if he were younger, that would be what he’d opt to do.

“It was hard for me too,” he admits, Bokuto guides them to the sofa, “We’ve been working nonstop for almost a week and I had foolishly thought,” this is Akaashi being honest, admitting to the fact that he had volunteered for a hopeless cause.

“I thought we had a chance, we worked so hard, I had deluded myself into thinking that we had more control over the process, and therefore the outcome,” it comes out as resignation, “but there are things that we can’t control, even when we give our one-hundred twenty percent.”

Bokuto brings him closer and Akaashi tucks himself against his side, head on his shoulder, knees on his lap. It’s been a long day juggling hard feelings for Akaashi, and it’s finally time to offload some of the baggage.

“It’s ridiculous,” he starts, “I didn’t even see myself doing this type of work, it’s just a job. But I got attached to Udai’s story, the characters he created, the narrative we were trying to deliver. I didn’t come into this thinking it would hurt, but it does.”

“You always give your all into everything, love,” Bokuto comforts, “you feel for things deeply, you get attached and want to see them through, I don’t think that’s bad. In fact, I think that’s your best trait! That’s the Keiji I knew in court, always taking care of the team, and now you’re taking care of bigger things.”

It’s a bitter feeling to accept, the fact that he had been taking care of things with an unwavering dedication. His devotion to their story had been a staple for months and he had performed to the best of his abilities, yet this was not enough. Despite giving his one-hundred and twenty, he had fallen short.

“I am glad I was there,” he admits, “Udai has been so good to me, and good to us; I have no regrets. I never thought of myself as a fighter, but I fought really hard.” His voice cracks at the end, tears begin to fall.

“You’ve always been a fighter,” Bokuto intertwines their fingers and momentarily admires his partner’s longer ones. Akaashi’s fingers create words that string into poetry and emulate concepts far beyond the realms of real life. Once, Akaashi’s fingers were owned by volleyball and Bokuto had been the lucky recipient of their power, today Bokuto is greedy enough to want more of him.

“I was able to perform my duty and support him till the end, I know I gave it everything I had,” Akaashi proclaims, voice shaking but eyes firm with dignity. “I am not ashamed of this failure; I am happy I found something I could care for. What we created is ours, no one can take that away.”

There is a grace in which Akaashi says it, it momentarily stuns Bokuto. “You were really strong today, love. How much you care about Udai and your story matters, you should know that this is the best thing about your heart.”

Reminders of self-love are a staple to their relationship. Bokuto knows that his partner struggles with self-perception, Akaashi is caring in nature but finds difficulty in extending the same luxuries towards himself. It’s always pained Bokuto to know that his biggest hurdle was instinctively self-inflicted.

“It was hard, but I am better for it. I know my feelings matter, which is why I am telling you,” Akaashi states. Simple words but they open a new dimension into their relationship. This is a giant leap for him, to admit that he is willingly seeking vulnerability.

Bokuto’s tears come before his thoughts, suddenly he has raindrops to match his partner’s and they fall at a comical rate.

“Keeii-jii,” he cries out, and his partner laughs at the display. Akaashi might be baffled at the emotional turn but Bokuto knows he’s witnessed a revelation. “I am so proud of you, love. I was worried when I came here but you’ve been handling yourself so well. Your feelings really do matter.”

It comes out a jumbled mess, but he knows Akaashi won’t doubt his sincerity. He is laughing at the snot running down his nose but Bokuto could care less, he has so much pride for his partner.

“Thank you for being here,” Akaashi gives him a watery smile, Bokuto wants to say of course he’s here and he’ll be here for as long as he’s granted the honor.

“I’ll always be here,” he tells him, Akaashi hides a smile against his shoulder. Bokuto doesn’t understand the trigger but he feels something shift. They feel older now, like real adults and not the boring kind- the kind that had plans and could face the world together.

“I thought about you,” Akaashi tells him, “while I was working through the stress.”

“Oh, what were you thinking about?” Bokuto had been a hundred miles away, playing in an away-match in a country that didn’t have yakiniku.

“Zovish, the zombie boy, reminds me of you.” Bokuto laughs at the sentiment, leave it to his weird boyfriend to find a character in a horror manga who reminded him of his significant other.

“Do I remind you of the undead, Ji?” he teases.

“He reminds me of a star,” Akaashi offers with no context. There is a pause where Bokuto thinks he might elaborate but his partner has already moved onto the next idle fleeting thought. It’s always a pleasure to be exposed to the labyrinth of Akaashi’s mind, he wants to spend forever decoding it.

“This will hurt for a long time,” Akaashi states without resignation, Bokuto hums in comfort. He knows that despite their progress, Akaashi will continue to analyze every step of his work to ensure the most satisfactory ending. At least he’ll come to him when it gets too tough.

“I prepared you dinner, love,” it’s all it takes for Akaashi to swing his legs and run towards the kitchen, his stomach always the main priority. The sounds of cabinet doors and other ruffling soon follows, Bokuto chuckles at his eagerness.

He’s sad that it’ll be awhile before he can visit again, considering how training is set to pick up. He’ll be comforted in knowing that Akaashi is dealing with the loss properly, but still, he wants to leave a little bit more happiness.

He looks at his duffle bag.

Akaashi scoops rice into two bowls and opens the lid to reveal a simple feast. Bokuto is nowhere near a gourmet chef, but compared to Akaashi’s skill of boiling water, everything the athlete makes is miles better. He’s preoccupied by the smell and his stomach’s whining and misses when the apartment suddenly goes silent.

He turns to call his boyfriend to the table when suddenly-

_click, click_

That sound, it’s vaguely familiar. Just a simple tapping against the hardwood, and it’s coming closer.

“Hello Ji, Bokuto Kotari is at your service,” comes a badly constructed feminine voice. Bokuto tries project his voice into a shrill tone, but all it does is make him sound like an offkey angry bird.

“Koutarou, I-I, what are you wearing?”

A remnant of MSBY Jackals’ infamous fan meet, an iconic moment that sparked hundreds of fancams, a new legion of supporters, and lifelong trauma for his teammates; but Bokuto had enjoyed it.

“What’s wrong, love- doesn’t it suit me?”

Bokuto wears a yellow bodycon dress that falls to his knees, a suite jacket with big sleeves barely manages to cover his chest. The form is remnant of a stylized girl’s army fashion ensemble and Akaashi vaguely recalls that it was inspired by a famous JPop performance, but his mind draws a blank.

“Come on, I still remember all my dance moves, let me show them to ya!”

It’s custom-made for him, each Jackal has a matching outfit in a rainbow of colors. The long, silver wig that Bokuto wore during the performance is noticeably absent, but the four-inch platforms are very distracting. He stands so tall, the dress clings to his ass and frames his chest in a sidesplitting but attractive way.

Or maybe Akaashi is just entranced by everything involving his partner.

“Where did you get that?” it’s the only thought Akaashi’s dumbfounded mind can make. This is team property, right? What justification did Bokuto have to borrow this- and what did they assume from his request?

“Tsumu snuck it out for me, he’s a pro.” Akaashi would not like to know why the setter is no stranger to their costume department, this would only fuel rumors.

“You look,” crazy, wonderful, amazing, “like you’ve just broken out of a nightclub,” it’s too tame, Akaashi’s head needs to catch up.

“You can say I look nice, Ji,” Bokuto teases, he reaches for his wrist and his chest folds in to form what would be considered a cleavage, it does things to Akaashi. “I brought this here for you, I wanted to make you happy.”

Oh, Akaashi is more than happy, he has long grieved missing the world-shattering fan meet (stupid deadlines), and now he is getting a private show as compensation.

“You’re definitely a looker, Koutarou,” he steps into his boyfriend’s space. He wants to admire the embroidery up close; wants to feel the material on his skin.

Bokuto blinks, and then his brain short circuits too, it seems like his outfit had an unintended effect.

The effort isn’t lost to Akaashi, how Bokuto had prepared a meal, set the mood for a serious talk, and even planned the display to uplift his spirits. It’s wonderful to feel loved, it’s even more wonderful to be the sole witness to his boyfriend’s athletic body coming through.

“Are you going to dance for me?” he has to look up more than usual due to the heels, but Bokuto’s face is flushed with embarrassment.

It’s so like Akaashi to turn a weird situation into something weirder. It fills Bokuto’s pride to know that even in his most unusual forms, Akaashi will match his eccentrics to want him.

“We could dance,” Bokuto offers, he tries not to shudder at the feeling of a hand on his behind. The hand snakes around him, up and down, mockingly. “I could put on a show for you.”

“Oh really,” Akaashi asks coyly, now both hands are exploring uncharted territory. “I wouldn’t object to seeing these moves of yours.”

Bokuto’s first thought is to mourn the abandonment of his culinary masterpiece, his second is how difficult it is to carry someone while wearing heels.

They stumble around but they make it. Akaashi has a very good night.

.

"And this is for... healthcare," Bokuto's hair seemed to flop down with his confusion, "or health insurance?"

Mamiko Ayuzawa prided herself in having a successful career managing Japan's finest athletes. She is a part of the team, a pathfinder behind the scenes that contributes to their wins. But while others worked on match strategies, or maintaining the players' health, she took on a more managerial role.

That is to say that she handles the in-betweens of their daily lives. From financials, to management, to the finer points of adulting- Olympians may rule the battlefield of athletic prowess but they are not immune to having bills pile up.

Ayuzawa handles the gritty details and does her job well. She knows that her clients come to her with absolute trust, mostly due to necessity. Her job is to give an overview of how their money is managed, collect vague nods of agreement, and pretend not to notice how most feign understanding on their discussions.

She is not here to judge, they have their own battles, and this is hers.

Today's battle, however, is quite different. It comes in the form of one Bokuto Koutarou, a fan favorite of her niece and the face she sees on the energy drink she favors. He is less intimidating in person, partially due to his apparent distress over financial terms, nothing a BlueBull could possibly solve.

"So, I need to make monthly payments, but what if I miss them, I am really bad with dates," he moans, looking worriedly between contracts. It's amusing to Ayuzawa, he is one of the few who have actually tried to read their contents.

"You've been doing this for years, Bokuto-san," she does her best to console, "the team does this automatically, you've been contributing to a fund since the beginning of your career, the same is true for all the things we've discussed."

They've already briefly brushed up on taxes, and wow was it a wild ride. Ayuzawa is no accountant, there were people in the back who mastered the art, but Bokuto's limited knowledge on assets and liabilities is alarming.

"But there are hundreds of terms, I didn't know so many things happened at once," Bokuto looks mortified at the sheer amount of papers, "I feel so irresponsible!"

It's a melodramatic declaration to one of the population's most common struggles. If Bokuto were anyone else, Ayuzawa would be irked at his bewilderment over his own wealth; she is well aware of his numbers. But when she had asked if he had any questions, fully expecting him to reject the offer, he had responded with an earnest request to please teach him.

So, they went through the basics, she explained where his base salary went and how it was economical to keep different amounts in separate banks. Then, they went through investments and spending habits, with each topic inciting more questions from the athlete.

It was overwhelming to be kept so accountable, Ayuzawa is almost tempted to ask if this was a test by management. But with the way Bokuto is behaving, increasingly nervous with every new information, she thoroughly doubts the extent of his acting skills.

"Healthcare is the service given to individuals to restore their well-being, health insurance is the financial system that makes this possible," she tries again, hoping this topic won’t take as much time as their discussion on household insurances. To her knowledge, the athlete didn't even have property of his own yet, a shame really.

"The Jackals have your thighs insured," she offers offhandedly, "I am sure they're looking to invest in your chest too considering it’s become part of your main arsenal." It wouldn't be the weirdest thing, to have a specific body part protected, this added expense was on top of the team's god tier Medicare plan.

"Can they really do that," Bokuto perks, "does that mean they own a part of me?"

 _Oh_ to own, even partially, the athlete's thighs. So many people would kill to have a part of Japan's star, even if this star was operating on cluelessness.

"Not necessarily, they see it as an investment," she cringes at the word, she does not want to open that conversation again. "Let's just say that you'll be getting the best healthcare if something were to happen, isn't that great, Bokuto-san?"

Her fake enthusiasm incites no relief from her companion, he just furrows his brows and starts to think even harder. Oh boy, she is not paid enough for this.

"Does this mean I can invest too, in someone else?"

Now this is interesting, does he mean to expand the coverage of his health plan or is there a market of human limbs she did not know of. She knows how the rich can be, she's witnessed worse.

"Not in a weird way," he backtracks suddenly, "just in a way that can keep them safe. Like what if they hurt their hands, can I invest in those?"

Ayuzawa doesn't know what to make of that request. Bokuto has enough money to build an Olympic-sized pool for leisure, who is she to judge his financial woes.

"Are you talking about a parent or family member? Most people invest in their whole bodies, it keeps the paperwork easier," she doesn't miss the way her client perks at the insinuation, now this is getting interesting.

"Can I do that, even if we're not technically..." a pause, "I consider this person my family." He looks at her, gold eyes determined, as if daring her to say otherwise.

The story unfolds, this whole conversation seems to have implications that go beyond what Ayuzawa is privy to. She is charmed at the revelation.

"There are many ways to invest in a person, Bokuto-san," she can tell that he's fully interested, all these questions are for one person. "You can enroll them under your own plan, or invest in life insurance on their behalf, this is something you should both talk about,"

"But there are other ways to take care of a person-" she looks to her own ring, five years of marriage has taught her plenty. "Perhaps you'd like to look into properties, maybe create a savings account for that, finance long-term goals."

"It's okay if you don't know what to do yet, I am sure they'll appreciate the sentiment," Ayuzawa's own husband had proposed while juggling two part-time jobs, he had no ring but prepared a bank account with enough for a down payment on their first apartment - she could not ask for more.

"It's hard with us," Bokuto reveals. "They aren't too comfortable with the topic and I am too much of a child to bring it up properly."

"Kei- I mean, my partner, is the type to worry about the future, so I was hoping to learn more about being an adult," he scratches the back of his head, "so I can be better for them."

Ayuzawa feels her heart swell three sizes over, she can't wait to tell her niece of what an absolute sweetheart her idol is.

"You're on the right track, Bokuto-san," it's all she can offer, "You're very sweet to try to understand everything- taxes are hard, adulthood is harder, it's much better to sort through these with someone you truly trust."

His eyes seem to light up at the revelation, golden orbs shining with promise; she wonders if he is imagining the future.

Maybe it's marriage, maybe it's moving in, or maybe it's simply a boy wanting to man-up to the responsibility of forever. It's like witnessing an evolution, an adult stepping into their role.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you!" he stands to bow before her, an action that is foreign in her line of work. She is a part of the team, but no one has ever treated her contributions with this much dignity.

It makes her feel warm inside, to witness the heart behind the brawn, the value in the spaces between matches and gold medals. In order to keep their players winning on court, they had to keep them winning at life.

"One more thing... can you tell me what income tax is again?"

Oh, how she loved her job.

.

Udai is no stranger to homecomings.

After high school, he packs his bags and leaves Miyagi to attend a relatively small college up north. It becomes widely known that the institution has no volleyball team.

His decision is, unsurprisingly, met with scrutiny.

His coach asks him to reconsider, tells him that scouts will guarantee a free pass into the collegiate league. His underclassmen whisper, they speculate on injuries and admission scandals, while his friends coerce him into heart-to-heart sessions with the hopes of revealing hidden turmoils. Even rivals from other schools, players he had defeated, make their opinions known. They come to him with challenges, tell him that the stage still calls, and demand to know his reason.

There is no reason.

Udai loves the court as much as he loves Miyagi, it's home, comfortable and kind, with enough space for him to grow and fly as he pleases. He appreciates the smell of air salonpas like he anticipates his mother's homecooked meals; he navigates the court like he knows the backend roads of their neighborhood. To Udai, volleyball is so deeply ingrained in his being, like every stubble on the path towards his childhood home.

He does not need a reason.

After high school, Udai is acutely aware that his life has just begun. He looks to trophies as remnants of the past, articles highlighting his glory days as celebrations of the person he once was.

They tell him of yesterday but fail to ask- who will he be tomorrow?

It's a question the keeps him up at night, makes him toss and turn as he prepares for his last tournament, and even after, while he clutches his diploma close to his chest. Everyone has a destination; it would be presumptuous of him to believe that he has already found his.

So he goes against expectations, spends breaks in the library researching schools, then consults with counselors on possible career paths. He doesn't miss their wide-eyed looks when he mentions that he will not be pursuing volleyball. Their worries reveal that they believe he is making a mistake.

Why, he wants to ask, can’t I choose to exist outside of volleyball?

Udai knows that it's unfair to hold this against anyone, they couldn’t possibly understand. All they know is the player on court, the number 10 soaring past obstacles, the little giant. It's both a blessing and a curse to be held at such high esteem because they know of him, but they don't know him.

Regardless, Udai doesn't look to answers from anyone. He's adamant that this is his decision to make, and if the world tells him this is the wrong one, he'll gladly walk into his mistakes with arms open.

He doesn’t need a reason to start again.

He brings with him exactly one suitcase, a backpack filled with valuables, and leaves his volleyball sitting on the edge of his bed. His parents send him off with teary smiles and half-doubts that he'll make it on his own. Home will always be here, they say, as if he needed a reminder.

The first few months are the hardest for him. Between homesickness and academics, his biggest hurdle is his own body clock, too used to waking up at the crack of dawn and seeking a healthy eight hours of sleep.

This schedule is simply not feasible for a college student, most of the friends he makes are night-owls, and the mornings are boring without the need to dedicatedly condition his body.

It's surreal to feel his muscles grow tender, his stomach rounder, like he's saying goodbye to the arsenal he once wielded with pride. But he gains other things too, the uncanny ability to cram multiple papers in one night, a high tolerance for liquor, and most importantly, a new passion that _burns_.

He doesn’t need a reason to start again, (but deep inside, he knows that he has one).

Contrary to what his supporters believe, Udai recognizes that his chances of pursuing a professional volleyball career are slim. He doesn't admit this out, for the fear that it will reduce the morale he inspires in others, (it's a burden he did not ask for.)

It's not because of his limited height or the lack of opportunities available to him, Udai just knows - it's him.

He does not possess the same reckless passion as madmen who devote themselves completely to sport. He has seen drive; he has witnessed ambition. For others, volleyball is like oxygen, it is no home. They would soon die gasping for air than exist without it. He knows that it is possible to love something to the point of ruin, but that is not him.

He is not ashamed to come to terms with his own limitation. He’s had a good run, there is nothing more he could ask for. It didn’t make parting any less difficult, goodbyes hurt (and oh, it hurt so badly.)

Udai loves volleyball like he loves Miyagi, but the world is big- and he can’t continue to exist under preconceived perception. He doesn’t care if he’s an unknown outside of volleyball, he wants to take ownership of his days, forge himself from the bottom-up.

Who will he be tomorrow - he's in no hurry to find out.

He discovers his passions in the dark, ironically after his body clock adjusts to his new lifestyle. He’s sleeping in his dorm, alarm clock ominously waiting to interrupt his slumber, when it happens, he has a nightmare.

He wakes up gasping, clutching the sheets tightly, a thin sheen of sweat clings to his forehead. It takes a while for his world to steady, for his breathing to even out, the horrific image remains beneath his eyelids.

His first thought is to call home. It's foolish because he dare not worry his mother over such a frivolous thing, bless her soul. He's past the age of seeking comfort from others, the desolate state of his room is a testament to his independence.

His second is to go back to sleep, relish the remaining hours before sunlight calls. But his pulse is wild, and adrenaline keeps him awake, there will be no more sleeping tonight.

So, he settles into his desk, grabs a pen, and draws.

Prior to this episode, his art had only existed within the margins of his notebooks, doodles in between boring lectures or on the edges of greeting cards. He’s illustrated small figures for projects and designed posters for class activities, but never like this.

What Udai depicts is rough sketch of a vision manifested by his subconscious. It slowly takes forms as he makes deliberate strokes, changes materials, and adds details. It looks horrendous, he has never been prouder.

He shows his masterpiece to his friends who wrinkle their noses in disdain. Are you having trouble sleeping, they ask, their concern is unnecessary.

What follows is a change of pace, Udai starts to spend most of his nights creating. From ghost, to zombies, to demons- figments of his imagination come to life. He draws until the pen starts to feel more familiar in his hand, till it becomes an extension of himself.

He doesn't know what to make of his morbid obsession, but slowly, it starts to feel like an answer.

He sketches in between classes, follows references online, forces himself to create beyond his comfort zone, all in the effort to become more. What for- he doesn’t need a reason.

It takes months of asking the same question- who will you be tomorrow?

Different, he says, I’ve got time.

In his third year of college, to the horror of any rational being, Udai decides to change his degree.

_nice kill_

Today is his homecoming.

_okay team that's all for today_

Udai sets his camera down, already excited to go through the reference footage at a later time. Today marks his triumphant return to court, well, as a visitor, but it's no less exciting.

Today, he's a witness to the Jackals' ultra-secret-special-training-session, even signing a nondisclosure agreement before entering. He has his editor to thank for his exclusive pass and _professional_ contact.

"TEN-KUN, WHAT DID YOU THINK?"

Like lighting, Bokuto hops through rows of bleachers to join the mangaka where he sits. Still sweaty, high on adrenaline, the athlete never fails to put him at ease.

"You guys were awesome today," he doesn’t hold back, "It was wild and exciting to watch, I was nearly on my feet, and this was just a training session. I got so much reference material, thank you, this was a real big help."

The athlete is buzzing with pride, "I am glad you thought so, I asked the team to be extra cool today!"

Udai laughs at the exclamation, already hoping that Bokuto was subtle in his request. Udai had been briefly introduced to the team this morning when he had formally asked for their good graces.

Do what you do normally, he reassured, I am just here to watch.

He's was grateful for the lack of follow-up questions, seeing as he’s unable to disclosure his plans before any official release. But judging from the excitement buzzing through his companion, he can deduce that his editor may have already revealed some secrets.

"Your drills were intense, I mean I already expected that, but it's a lot harsher than I imagined," Udai recounts almost six hours of pure bodybuilding, the dedication was grotesque in its own form.

"We gotta keep ourselves strong during the off-season," Bokuto explains, "we focus on stamina and maintaining muscle, all that hard stuff. But you have to come back when we start having practice games, that's where the real action happens!"

Udai appreciates the invitation, he's already looking forward to it.

"You've been bouncing between training sessions, right?" He’s already aware of this, judging from his editor's varying states of grumpiness. "You're set to fly with the national team soon."

"Yes, I am," Bokuto chirps, "I'll be gone for a few weeks, back to going against international teams. It's gonna to be great- I love meeting new people, even if languages are kinda tough, but still it-"

For a moment, Bokuto talks about the highs of travel and foreign food, his favorite parts when meeting new players, what he looks forward to when he visits a new country. It's reminiscent of their first formal interview, now just another casual conversation.

"It just sucks that I'll have to be away from-," he suddenly stops, "oh no, don't tell Keiji I mentioned him, he wants me to keep this professional."

Udai laughs at his feeble attempt, Bokuto already calls him by a nickname, try as his editor may, they've long passed the point of professionalism.

"I promise to keep it a secret," their eyes meet and they both grin, a shared joke between them, "and don't worry about him, I'll keep an eye out for you."

He'd do so even without the athlete’s unspoken request, but having his trust cements the responsibility Udai feels over the younger man.

"You're the best, Ten-kun. Keiji is really lucky to have you!" Bokuto quite literally beams at him, with a smile like that, it's no wonder why his editor favored star metaphors.

"Nah it's the least I can do," and like sharing a secret, he adds, "I am the lucky one to be working with him on this project." He doesn't miss how Bokuto manages to shine even brighter at the statement. It's ridiculously sweet how the two visibly adored each other.

"That's my Keiji, he's been like that since high school," he boasts, "reliable, good with words, super smart-"

"Ah," he interrupts himself again, "I think I am saying too much."

Udai laughs good-naturedly, hoping to put the athlete at ease. So, this was what was missing from their last interview, Bokuto is unable to shut-up about his partner when unrestricted.

"You don't have to worry about restraining yourself with me," he reassures.

"Yea, I know," Bokuto looks to the court, "it's just that I've been very careful lately, trying not to talk so much about my personal life out in the open,"

Udai nods at the insinuation.

"I feel like everything I say can be taken out of context- not by you of course, but by other people," Bokuto frowns, "they might hear something and have it twisted, I don't want Keiji to be exposed to that."

The couple has Udai's sympathies, he can't fathom how unpredictable public perception has been.

"I feel kinda guilty," Bokuto continues to open up, "Keiji never asked to live like this, he's always been worried about what would happen to me, but I won't always be here to protect him.” He lays his palms facing upwards, as if contemplating their strength, capable of spiking a ball at an inhuman speed but weak to protect the one he adores.

"I've made his life a mess,” Bokuto breathes out, as if admitting to a crime, “I wish it didn't have to be like this."

He ends his spiel looking absolutely downtrodden, guilt evident against his worry lines. Seeing the athlete go from happy and excitable to quiet and miserable hurts Udai deeply.

"You didn't make his life a mess," Udai is sure of that, "and you shouldn't feel guilty, Akaashi-kun will have my head if I let you feel that way,"

"Both of you chose to be brave, to begin a new chapter," Udai declares, "Akaashi does not do things without thinking thoroughly, I witnessed that in person, he chose to walk into the unknown with you," and he adds, "I don't think he's ever regretted it since that day."

It's clear that Bokuto looks to him for both reassurance and wisdom, his trust is humbling. While Udai had dreaded previous burdens on court, talk outside of court, real-life consequences, is a load he is willing to carry.

"I don’t regret it too," Bokuto admits, "I just wish it were easier."

He must be having a really difficult time if he's abandoning his philosophy of fun; this is an adult conversation.

"Well it's never easy, Bokuto-kun," Udai thinks about difficult beginnings that came from equally difficult endings. "When it comes to starting again, in your case, inviting a new complexity in your relationship, you have to expect that it will be very difficult."

"Beginnings are supposed to be hard, especially ones out of necessity, you're supposed to feel uncomfortable," Udai holds his gaze. "You both ventured into this because there was something you were discontent with in your past life. So to fix that, you had to break free."

"It's okay if it feels messy, you're right to be cautious, you are both navigating through uncharted waters," Udai soothes. "What's important is that you made this decision for the good of your relationship, you can only move forward from here."

Bokuto seems to soak in his words like a sponge, pondering on their meaning before he replies. It's interesting to watch him think, to know that every sentiment is not wasted.

"How do I know if it was good or bad choice?" he whispers. "What if we would have been much happier without all this attention."

Udai takes a moment of his own to ponder on every big decision he has made. His choice to leave Miyagi over his helplessness in saving his manga. Sometimes control is with you, and other times, outside forces make the decision.

"There is no way of knowing," he admits, "some days will be bad, some days will be better; it's a tradeoff. You give something to the world to get something else in return, and there's really no way to measure that."

"But I know that this is necessary," he consoles. "Things need to change- failures, inconveniences, hardships, they're all here to remind us to grow and adapt. Sometimes, when we’re lucky, we get to decide the risks we take, other times, life just happens."

Udai thinks to his recent failure, still a thorn by his side despite the hope his new project sparks. It's possible to mourn one while celebrating the other. "All you can do is your best," he ends, "the world is both cruel and kind, things can be both painful but equally as wonderful."

He sees the athlete tremble, and for a moment he's afraid of witnessing a breakdown. It's surreal to have such an intense conversation beside the court, to have it so prominent, yet be the furthest thing from their attention.

While many matters extended went the court, there were just some things that did not involve it.

But to the editor’s surprise, Bokuto does not breakdown, in fact, he seems to be thinking harder than ever before.

"Thank you, Ten-kun," he bids, "I made you remember hard things, so I am sorry for that."

Again, Udai is impressed with how perceptive Bokuto is outside of volleyball. It’s a side few know of him, his innate sense to remain attuned to your feelings even while going through something of his own.

"But I am really grateful for things you've taught me," he says sincerely, "I've been thinking a lot lately, and I am glad I was able to talk to you."

Then he smiles, "Let's both do our best with what's in front of us."

Udai thinks about his own combat, constructing a new plot, a new testament to an old love, meant to represent the convergence of two major points in his life. It's daunting and scary, involving more emotional vulnerability than he is comfortable with.

But the world doesn't need a reason to take and give; it has no timing and leaves no justification. Not everything comes with purpose, or the promise of forever, or a guaranteed semblance of sense. The world won't ask for what you want or prioritize what you need. Sometimes, things just happened, and the only control you have is to decipher what comes next.

"Yes, let's do our best."

Before their conversation can continue, a few players reenter the court, one of which, a familiar shade of orange his once esteemed persona had inspired.

"Bokuto-senpai," his voice loud despite the distance. "We want to play a bit more before the day ends!"

Udai is glad that he's long come to terms with his own mortality. He's no madman nor monster, he is not looking for a seat at the table. He’s found his place, a respectable distance away from the feast, but still nurturing a quiet torch that resembles home.

"Great idea!" Bokuto calls out, as if they hadn't just concluded six hours of physical activity. There are only three other waiting, they could do no more than pass the ball a few times.

Bokuto hops through several rows of chairs like an excited child, radiating absolute delight at being able to get back on court. He’s several rows beneath before he stops and turns towards him, "Aren't you coming?"

There are things that have been decided for him, passions that are given and taken back; Udai has learnt this from homecomings and goodbyes.

But when something is given, even without reason, he knows not to question why. Udai has learnt to seize control over what he can and let go of the things he cannot. In the midst of what has been taken from him, today he is finally free to take control of the aftermath.

"Yea! let me show you a thing or two."

Udai is finally home.

.

"Keiji, veg-ta-blesss," Bokuto chants, much to the disdain of the man in question.

To emphasize his point, Bokuto grabs a handful of greens from the shelf and unceremoniously dumps it in their cart, mostly out of spite; Akaashi twitches.

"Honey," he grits his teeth, "at least look at the vegetables before deciding to purchase them."

"No need," Bokuto pushes their cart away before Akaashi can return the items, "anything will be healthy for you at this point."

He hears his boyfriend huff in protest before he is followed out of the produce aisle. Buying the items is one thing, getting his stubborn partner to consume them will be another.

"Wheat bread," Bokuto picks up a loaf, it’s a statement, not a question, "it's healthier."

"What's wrong with normal bread," Akaashi grumbles, already inching towards the packets of instant ramen. Bokuto periodically reminds him that he no longer has to consume processed food, but the instincts of a once deprived college student are hard to override.

"Love please," he gestures to the insane number of snacks Akaashi has already managed to sneak in, "you shouldn't be eating like this, we're getting older."

While most may assume that Akaashi is the more responsible one in their relationship, few know that Bokuto takes on the more socially adjusted role. His choice of career has made him naturally weary of what he consumes, the same can't be said for the overworked editor.

"It's not bad," he protests, "rice, seaweed, and snacks are all common Japanese delicacies, it’s ingrained in our eating habits."

It's a lofty excuse and they both know it, Akaashi has the taste buds of a child and the stubborn attitude of a senior citizen. Their cart is a testament to that, a mixture of extremes, leafy vegetables paired with 3-in-1 meals.

"Please reconsider, for me love," Bokuto pleads, and to add a flair of dramatic, "I am planning on living a long life with you, so I need you at your healthiest."

It's a cheesy, dramatic declaration that holds more truths than a grocery store deserves. In another time, Bokuto would like to expound on its relevance, but today he uses this as a weapon.

"Good luck with that," Akaashi shoots him down, this time being the one to wheel their cart away to protect his items. Bokuto slumps, he had just been rejected for processed garbage.

But he's determined to have Akaashi live up to one-hundred thirty alongside of him, even against his will, so he creeps behind his unsuspecting partner and traps him into a back hug.

Akaashi drops the cookies he's holding upon contact but makes no move to break free from the hold. Bokuto whispers in his ear, "Your body will complain if you keep eating garbage, _dear_."

They appear like a couple indulging in public affection, but the display in coated with competitive tension; they know this is war. Ah, domestic bliss.

"My body is strong, and it knows what it wants," Akaashi challenges, "Unless your love is only contingent on my looks, should I expect not to receive your affections when I am old and overweight."

Bokuto squawks at the retort and tightens his hold as punishment. This time, Akaashi does try to escape but to no success. They squirm and laugh against each other in the middle of some carbohydrates.

_ahem_

Someone coughs, when they turn, they meet the judging eyes of a middle-aged zombie; or that's what Akaashi would deem her, seeing as she held no importance to them. The audacity to make her presence known instead of quietly moving along.

Akaashi feels courageous, he meets the zombie’s gaze directly, sending a message- he’s unafraid and wants her to know. An uncharacteristic protectiveness has settled into his system and he desires nothing more than to _confront_.

But Bokuto’s instinct is to do the opposite, he immediately releases his grip and takes control of their cart. _Retreat_ , his actions say, and he fully expects his partner to follow, instead, he witnesses Akaashi give their predator the most heated look.

 _What_ , Bokuto is unable to reconcile the hostility emanating from his partner. The editor’s gaze is meant to defend, not provoke; Akaashi is not here to make reckless decisions. However, he refuses to remain passive in the face of discrimination.

The zombie’s look is meant to incite shame, a deadpan stare that says, _you shouldn’t exist like this in pubic_ , a clear sign of judgement and revulsion. A younger Akaashi would have felt the flames, but this Akaashi has nothing to apologize for; he lets their standoff stretch into a heated minute.

The zombie was obviously not expecting resistance, she flinches away and self-consciously tugs at her items before making a hasty retreat.

Akaashi is numb to her withdrawal, she has already tainted their domestic excursion, there was nothing to be won.

He chases after Bokuto who has maneuvered their cart away from the scene. They find themselves amidst the cleaning supplies, where the athlete preoccupies himself with the displays.

"Aren't I in charge of cleaning," Akaashi attempts to joke, but Bokuto continues to fixate on bleach with a vigor that could rival that of his teammate's.

"Koutarou," he tries again, "there's no need to be bothered." It's not the first time they've been called out, whether it be due to Bokuto's fame or periodic displays of affection, public outings were always challenging.

“You met the woman’s gaze, why?” there is no malice in Bokuto’s tone, just genuine inquiry. It’s rare of Akaashi to be baited, he wants to know what had been different.

“I got angry,” he admits. “Most people have some semblance of tact, but she was so unashamed of her prejudice. It made me think, how many people has she stopped with that level of entitlement.”

Bokuto stays silent with the explanation, Akaashi can feel his turmoil.

“She didn’t know who you are, love,” he reassures, “She didn’t care about any of that, she just saw two men in public and decided to react that way. No hesitation, I can’t fathom that level of hatred.”

“But if she had said something, what would you have done?” Bokuto asks, “If she had stronger opinions, if she made a scene, would you have done some more?”

Akaashi is not blind to their limitations, when faced in public, against someone of the opposite gender, it will always be smarter to retreat. People judged without first understanding, and from an outsider’s perspective, they’d always appear as the perpetrators.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “I don’t know if I would have gotten angrier or retreated, I don’t know by how much she would have escalated the situation. I wasn’t looking for a fight, I just wanted her to know that it wasn’t okay.”

Bokuto’s turmoil comes not from _what_ Akaashi had done, but _why_ he had done it. It was nothing more than a silent standoff, but it came with implications, a possibility of escalation.

“Because it wasn’t okay,” Akaashi lets out, “I may have acted impulsively, but I’d do so again if it will make her think twice about treating people like us the same way.”

Suddenly, he wants his partner to understand, “I can’t imagine how other people would deal with that, there are worst situations, meaner people, not everyone is lucky to have a partner to stand by them,” he is surprised by his own burst of emotion, a new catalyst for his big feelings.

“I couldn’t allow her to look at you that way, I don’t want people like that to have power over us,” Akaashi declares, “I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable- “

“Please don’t,” Bokuto interrupts quickly, afraid of his feelings being misinterpreted, “don’t apologize for what you did, I am not upset, I am just,” he takes deep breath, “overwhelmed, surprised, I don’t know.”

“Seeing it happen scared me,” Bokuto admits, “I can’t handle anyone mistreating you, even if you’re doing it for our sake, it’s too painful for me, I am sorry if that makes me selfish, or weak, it’s just really hard.” He tries not to let his emotions betray, there are still shoppers gallivanting in their aisle, blissfully unaware of their storm.

“I don’t want this to be more difficult than it has to be for you,” the athlete continues, "if it's not in the grocery, it's on the street, or while we're at dinner, or that other time in the park-"

"I don’t mind," Akaashi interjects, and maybe his voice is a tad too loud because some turn their heads towards them. "I've fought for the right to be with you in public, I am not going to stop just because it’s difficult. I’ve wanted this for a long time too, Koutarou.”

Bokuto knows he’s not lying, Akaashi directly proclaims this with all his heart, standing with a dignity beyond his age. He doesn’t look the least bit shaken, like he’s long accepted the burden with open arms.

“When did you become so brave?” Bokuto whispers, in awe of his partner’s growth. With courage comes risks, evolution, and pride, a magnitude of things that both amaze and scare him.

“You have to be when you have something worth fighting for,” the smile Akaashi gives is also brave, a quiet but firm reassurance.

For a moment, Bokuto is ashamed of his own lack of courage. He had frozen in the face of conflict, retreaded emotionally and left Akaashi to deal with the burden. If his partner was willing to brave the zombies, why couldn't he? What stopped him from being brave too?

Bokuto feels exposed by his weakness, he wonders if Akaashi noticed his hesitation, if he's silently judging his lack of resolve. They were a team, meant to face the world together, but Bokuto knows that he would take all the pain if he could.

"Koutarou," Akaashi calls to him, and they're only a step away but he feels so far. "It's my job to overthink."

It's a teasing tone, meant to lighten the mood and acknowledge his turmoil. Bokuto sees no judgement in his eyes, instead he is met with patience.

 _I am not brave like you_ , Bokuto doesn't say, but Akaashi seems to understand because he reaches out, brave and bold, to inspire a level of devotion.

"Koutarou, will you please hold my hand?" He extends an olive branch, a path towards courage, a calm in the middle of their storm.

"You don't even have to ask," Bokuto replies, shy and vulnerable, he reaches forward towards a hand that feels like home. Instantly, Akaashi presses their palms together for what might be the hundredth time.

His hold is steady and familiar, a statement in the middle of such a busy aisle. Slowly, Akaashi raises their intertwined hands towards his mouth, Bokuto's palm facing upwards, and presses a kiss in between his knuckles.

No shame, no hesitation, just unadulterated devotion.

Neither know if the display gains unwarranted attention, it's the furthest thing from their minds. Akaashi treasures his palm like a reason.

A squeeze, _I am proud to be your partner._

Another squeeze, _don't worry I am here._

It's with this conviction that Akaashi leads them through the rest of their excursion, never once letting their hands drop. They go through the condiments and perishables, make jokes and debate their purchases as if their normal had never been disrupted.

"It's to stop you from grabbing more junk," Bokuto teases, but they both know that Akaashi is the one keeping them afloat. Bokuto allows himself to relish in his partner's strength, to feel fully protected.

He's changed, he notes, like spring finally in full bloom. He's known his partner since high school, has been present through growing pains and stumbles, this Akaashi feels different.

The realization coats his cheeks a shade of red. He knows he's being ridiculous, Akaashi has always been steady, safe, and dependable.

But this Akaashi seems to glow, no longer fidgeting with his fingers when nervous, with a calm control over his thoughts. There is nothing quite like witnessing his beloved grow.

He's blissfully admiring his partner, while said partner remains oblivious to his fondness. In the middle of this grocery store, a cart of vegetables and junk in between them, Bokuto finds himself falling in love again.

"I think we have all we need," Akaashi tells him. They pay for their haul filled with compromises, Bokuto is reassured that the editor will have some healthy meals to eat.

They gather their items- two bags, one for each of them to take back to their respective dwellings, his and his, but also theirs.

"The cake shop your mom likes, it's around the corner right," Bokuto remembers as they exit the store. "We should grab her something, it's been awhile since we've visited."

This makes Akaashi smile, a radiant glow from the thoughtful gesture. While some zombies were of no consequence to them, other humans still mattered.

"She'd love that," he agrees, "she's been wondering when we'd visit again."

.

On the weekend before Bokuto's birthday, the Jackals have a game in Tokyo, naturally, Akaashi attends.

He searches for his seat across an ocean of people, all rowdy with anticipation; the season has just started, and everyone is looking forward to the return of their favorite players.

Akaashi spots a row of silver and white before he can double-check his ticket stub, several pairs of eyes instantly recognize him.

"Keiji-kun!" a long-haired woman calls out; she animatedly waves her arms to draw his attention.

"Bokuto-san," he quickly acknowledges, and then reminds himself that all his companions are Bokuto-sans. He finally reaches them, a family wearing matching MSBY number twelve t-shirts.

The first in the row is Koutarou's eldest sister, _nee-san_ , she had told him to call her. She's an electrical engineer with a masters in something too complex for Koutarou to remember and is a whole fifteen years his senior.

With her, her husband of eight years, the homemaker of their unit. Sandwiched in between them, two adorable mini-Bokutos, who Koutarou loved to spoil.

On her other side, Koutarou's youngest sister, still eight years his senior, a teacher and musician on the side. She had been the closest to Koutarou while growing up, having been his half-willing tutor and the first family member he confided in for a certain crush.

Both women instantly stand to pull him into a hug despite the limited space of their row. Akaashi accepts their affections with a shy glow, still overwhelmed at having older siblings to call his own.

They tell him that Koutarou's second eldest sibling is still at work and that she'll be joining them for the after-celebrations. She's an obgyn, also married to an equally accomplished surgeon; they both decided not to have kids.

"Mom wants to sit next to you," nee-san whispers, her golden eyes sparkle with the same mischievousness as Koutarou's, the resemblance is unmistakable.

Akaashi makes his way through the row, stopping to give each mini-Bokuto a pat on the head as they shout _big brother_ in recognition, he briefly shakes the hand of his unofficial brother-in-law.

Finally, the parents- Koutarou's mom is boisterous and vibrant, her own brand of sunshine personified. All her children had inherited her uncanny hair color, shades of white and silver filled with black streaks. They also inherited her passion for life, she once told him.

Koutarou's dad, black haired, and noticeably more reserved, is someone Akaashi has a quiet solidarity with. Unexpectedly, considering his own reservations with father figures, but the man was easy to talk to and comfortable in the silence.

Both parents are a significant age older than his own mother, a tell of Koutarou's mom 'wanting to explore the world first', and his father seeking financial stability before settling down. They are a kind pair, proud parents of a girl squad before Koutarou came as a _happy surprise_ right when they thought their family was at maximum capacity.

They had explained this to Akaashi during the first family dinner he was invited to. The table laughed at the fact, as if it were a shared joke between them. And Koutarou, the baby of the house, proclaimed that he brought much needed excitement to their lives.

Such family dynamics were miles away from Akaashi's own upbringing. It intimidated him at first, breached the boundaries of his threshold for affection, but the family was hard not to love. Within their first year of dating, Akaashi had already been invited to all of their birthdays, which was a lot considering the magnitude of their clan. He was also present during the second sister's wedding, even stood in some family photos, despite his utter embarrassment. The Bokutos accepted him with open arms, never once doubting his place.

Naturally, Koutarou's mom also stands in greeting, he smells her fruity perfume as she pulls him into a hug. Koutarou's dad gives him a firm handshake, inquires on his commute, then makes a passing remark about today's game.

He ends up sitting in between them and answers no less than twenty questions on his job, current concerns, and whether the weather has been causing him any discomfort.

Koutarou's mother prods and pokes at him with genuine interest, an exact replica of her son's curiosity.

"I hope my son's been treating you well," she tells him.

"Oh yes, he has," he easily confirms.

She doesn't hide her satisfied smile, and Akaashi's ears tingle red.

_And we have number 12, the ever-cheerful "Beam Weapon" Koutarou Bokuto!_

The whole stadium erupts at his introduction, but Akaashi swears that they hold no comparison to Koutarou's nieces jumping up and down. The Bokuto family calls out to him, a chorus of _Koutaroouuuu_ in perfect unison.

The use of his first name must resound against the other cheers because the man in question instantly spots them, lights up like a star, and raises his arms for the first beam of the day.

Akaashi’s heart skips a beat.

_Meian and Sakusa go up for the block and it’s successful, instantly shut down, what a beautiful way to start the season-_

It’s not the first game Akaashi has watched with Koutarou’s family, but it’s the most complete they’ve been. The first had been during the athlete’s debut, where college-freshman Akaashi skipped class for the first time to make the trip. It was pure luck that the last-minute seat he grabbed was also within the same zone as Koutarou’s parents.

His mother had spotted him like a hawk and immediately engaged in conversation, a knowing smile on her lips.

“I am glad someone cares for my Koutarou,” she told him.

They hadn’t been dating at that time, but she was the only one unsurprised by his presence when the family gathered after the game.

_Wonderful receive by Hinata, it’s instantly with Miya, and Hinata again, wow a quick!_

The second time had been in Matsumoto city, a good distance east from Tokyo. Koutarou shyly revealed that he had impulsively gotten him a seat, “since it’ll be a long weekend for you and we haven’t seen in each in a while, but no pressure-“

“I’d love to come, Bokuto-san,” he quickly reassured, “I’ll research the train routes and,”

“Nee-san can drive!” his words came in a hurry, “My sisters will be coming up too, I already said you'd ride with them, I hope that’s okay.”

They had only just told Koutarou’s family of their relationship a little over a month ago. _Oh,_ he remembered realizing, what a both serious and mundane next step this was, “I’d very much like that.”

By the end of the car ride, Akaashi had learnt more than a dozen embarrassing facts about his boyfriend. He also gained three new older siblings.

_Inunaki dives in for the ball, it’s close, and it’s up! The Jackals are on fire and quick to connect-_

The third time had been the strangest, just because the occurrence itself was nearly unthinkable, but for the first time ever, the infamous Bokuto girl-squad was composed solely of men.

A few months before Koutarou’s second sister’s wedding, the bride-to-be encouraged her fiancé to plan a boy’s day out to bond with his family-to-be.

 _“It’ll be papa’s first,”_ she convinced, as if her fiancé would have her any less than happy.

The planning left much to be desired, between aligning the schedules of a surgeon, a new full-time father, the bride's own ever-neutral father, and a traveling athlete; there was a limit to the activities they could commit to.

 _“Of course, you’re invited too, Akaashi,"_ Koutarou wined over the phone. _Of course_ , reverberated in his head, the absolute certainty that came with a formal invitation only a day after.

Like men who didn’t care for the frivolous and could bond over anything, the plan to attend Koutarou’s next match and have a few drinks after was quickly agreed on.

So, they met in the Ota city gym, bonded over the overwhelming victory the Jackals led, engaged in polite small talk in between sets, and ultimately found that they were all comfortable with one another.

Koutarou made reservations in a nearby grill, the eldest son-in-law imparted his secrets to a successful marriage, and most importantly, the wisest father of the group led the cheers.

“To our family growing bigger,” his voice was deep and certain, their bottles met with a clink.

_Set point Jackals, but the other side won’t make it easy, Miya passes it onto Sakusa but he’s denied, it bounces off the block!_

Today, watching alongside the Bokutos is comfortable. They clearly don’t have the best mastery on the rules, having to periodically whisper questions to Akaashi on violations and rotations. But they were loud in their support, always the first to triumphantly cheer at the Jackals' every point.

 _“They know I love volleyball, they’re supportive even if they don’t understand why,”_ Bokuto explained to him once, plain and simple with no malice.

As the youngest, he had grown up adored but right in the middle of everyone's lives. One by one, his sisters left for university, until he remained the sole bird in the nest by the time high school arrived. By then, his parents were much older and more liberal with their expectations. Within their shared years, his sisters managed to achieve enough to incite pride, but also stumbled through a number of mistakes that prepared the Bokuto parents to deal with it all.

So, when it came to their son, anything was fine. Failed grades? It happened before. Mood swings and tantrums? They've seen worst. Boyfriend? Well your sister had a girlfriend once so.

With a range of children to be proud of, having one as a professional athlete was a prospect they did not discourage. Other parents would have asked more questions on his plans, expected justifications and backups, but they allowed him to choose his own battles.

It came with both pros and cons, Akaashi knows, because during the years his partner was struggling, everyone felt too far away for immediate comfort. No family is perfect, and Koutarou didn’t expect his to be.

"Uncle Koutarou!" The children shout with reckless abandon.

Everyone today sits attentive and excitable, with an unadulterated support that Akaashi feels lucky to be a part of; he's long stopped pretending that this family isn’t his own.

_That's one touch for the Jackals, a quick response and Miya has it to Bokuto! Wow! A straight- that's another point!_

The Bokutos instantly cheer, but Akaashi's actions are the loudest. Again, in an unconscious response to Koutarou's energy, his feet take control and he finds himself standing up for the play.

No one else stands, the game is far from over, but Akaashi feels adrenaline course through him, the overwhelming thrill of seeing his partner at his best.

He quickly realizes that his stance is gaining the family's attention, and with a slight blush he slowly descends to sit back down. Koutarou's mother gives him a knowing smile.

"I am glad someone loves my Koutarou so much."

In between a family of silver and white, under a mother's fond gaze, Akaashi doesn't try to deny it.

.

After the match, the family makes their way to a nearby restaurant for celebrations. They had reserved a private room, a luxury Koutarou is proud to provide. They sit around their long table, barefoot on the floor, elbows touching as everyone squeezes in for conversation.

Before dinner comes, Koutarou's second eldest sister and her husband arrive, entrusting to him a gift to celebrate his maturity.

"It's a nice tie, baby brother," she teases, they both know his profession hardly calls for formal wear. "Maybe you'd want to clean up for a special occasion."

She pinches his cheek fondly and Koutarou wines at her roughness. Her husband bypasses the sibling scuffle and extends a hand towards Akaashi.

"Thanks for having us," he easily tells him, Akaashi bashfully accepts.

After Koutarou endures a round of teasing, courtesy of the reunited girl-squad, he tells the waiter they are expecting more guests.

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at this, and Bokuto wiggles his when their eyes meet. There is a noticeable space in their table, but for whom.

He isn't left wondering for long because the door opens and Bokuto is instantly on his feet.

"You've both made it, welcome!" He cheerfully greets the new arrivals. Short black curly hair and a gentle grace the follows, Akaashi's mother steps in.

"Mother," he stands up straight, Koutarou gets to her first and respectfully gives her a bow.

"No need for that, dear. Happy birthday," her demure voice is coated with fondness, "I am glad we can be a part of your celebration."

"Of course! We're glad to have you," Koutarou smiles brightly, and Akaashi loses all words.

"Mother," he manages to say, "I am glad you could both come." Her companion is a friend she's made in her workplace, a kind man whom she's been recently sharing her dinners with. Akaashi doesn't expect an official announcement, but he's truly happy for her.

"I am happy to be here," she replies, and her worry lines are not as deep, her cheeks glow a healthy color- she looks taken care of. Akaashi pulls her into a hug, while Koutarou shakes the hand of her partner. The atmosphere is comfortable, easy, and something he will never forget.

Now that all attendees are accounted for, the waiters bring in an array of food the quickly fills the table. The meals are warm and hearty, much like the celebrant himself, who looks happy to be feeding the people he cares about the most.

"Don't let my sisters fool you, dinner at my house was a battle," he cheekily tells him, and the girls quickly protest. Koutarou counters that all the best snacks were always missing, and he wishes that some of them would actually admit to the theft. They come to their own defenses, betray the other, and the whole table laughs.

Akaashi sees his mother giggle at the display and his heart feels light.

The talking continues, filled with stories, reminiscing, and catching up. At one point, Koutarou's mother talks about her newest obsession: painting, with the help of online tutorials, and inspired by her need to see color in their household. Surprisingly, Akaashi's mother speaks up and shares that she's also been delving into the arts due to the internet; it has been a productive use of her time. Koutarou's mother smiles in delight.

"We should try one of those workshops together," she lists classes she's been meaning to join, and to add to the elation in Akaashi's heart, his mother agrees.

"I'd love that," and the two mothers continue to chat.

On top of the table, no longer needing to hide, Koutarou lets their fingers intertwine. Akaashi takes in their surrounding family, his and his, now theirs, and squeezes his hand.

A few seats away, Koutarou's sisters give each other knowing looks. A shy smile from the youngest that says- _do you think they…?_ and a shrug from the eldest the means- _maybe_. They’re in an intimate space, surrounded by cherished people, now would be the ideal time for an announcement.

But nee-san seriously doubts her brother’s knack for timing. Would he propose without informing any of them first? Possibly. Could they have already eloped and are waiting to announce this? She wouldn’t be surprised. Are her sisters and mother setting their expectations far too high? Most likely.

She’s well aware of how her mother has been observing the couple for the past hour, how she had tensed with anticipation when Akaashi’s own mother walked in. The whole room seemed to feel the same in varying degrees, with her younger siblings making more direct remarks, a step away from spelling ‘marriage’ on the table, while the boys vaguely commented on how _they were next_. Evidently, the couple is blind to the purpose behind the attention, she doubts they’d be comfortable if they were.

So, when Akaashi takes her baby brother’s hand and clears his throat, the audible gasp coming from her mother is completely justified.

“I have an announcement,” Akaashi starts, and a hush immediately befalls the room, so deliberate that he blinks in confusion. “It’s time to cut the cake.”

She can hear the silent groans of her companions, the dejected mode emanating from the Bokuto girls. There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, and she bites a smile at Akaashi’s perplexed look.

“Is there something wrong with cake?”

“None at all, Akaashi-kun,” she reassures, she wishes she could explain to him what had transpired, but this will have to be a funny story for another day. “Let’s blow out these candles.”

Koutarou has one niece on each knee after they both proclaim to wanting to make a wish. His sister tries to protest but he laughs it off, he’d do just about anything for these angels.

The important thing is that Akaashi is with him, sitting by his side, where he belongs. Everyone sings happy birthday loudly, they clap and chant to no rhythm, laugh when the girls blow a little too hard. He briefly closes his eyes but makes no wish, he needs no magic to make him happy.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Akaashi already staring at him, and thinks, _what more could I need_.

Two pairs of tiny hands meet his cheeks, they coat him in frosting and sprinkles. Koutarou immediately lifts both girls, one on each arm, and stands up to swing them around.

“Uncle Koutarooou,” they shriek, waving their arms in mock-protest. Koutarou does a swooping motion to pretend to drop, just to lift them up over his shoulders. He keeps his hold firm as he spins around, over dramatic sounds to exaggerated movements, and the girls wrestle and laugh at their play.

The girls eventually slide off his shoulders to dangle on each side, Koutarou raises his arms upwards in a subtle flex. They’re almost weightless to him, and he relishes the feeling of finally having younger family to play with.

Akaashi watches the scene with a fond expression. His beloved is probably a housewife’s dream come true, a poster boy for the domestic. The athlete catches him staring and grins, “You’ve gotta help me, Keiji, the girls covered me in cake.”

Akaashi swipes two long fingers across the edge of the pastry, stands up, and approaches the scene. He gives them a mischievous smile and raises his frosting-coated fingers in warning, the girls immediately squirm away.

“Nooooo!” they chorus, but Bokuto keeps them from escaping. Akaashi brushes a long line of icing on top of their foreheads and they titter in protest. “You’re a traitor, big brother!”

One of the kids manages to break free and she pounces onto Akaashi with a force that nearly makes him stumble, but he manages to catch her. She buries her temple onto his cheek, the frosting transferring from her skin to his.

“There, now we’re all matching!” she proclaims proudly, sugar-stained skin from the girls, to Koutarou, and now, on himself. She demands that he carries her on his shoulders, and her sister requests the same from Koutarou. They have one child each, the rest of the family starts to cut the cake.

“Yes, we are.”

They manage to take a photo before the night ends, all members of their joint family surrounding the couple, traces of icing still evident on their smiles.

“You need a lift? The dorm is quite far from here,” nee-san asks, but Koutarou shakes his head. “I’ll be staying at Keiji’s, we can walk.” He gives her a big hug and they leave it at that.

Akaashi hails a cab for his mother, she grips his arm as they wait. Before they depart, she squeezes him softly.

“I am proud of you,” she whispers, and Akaashi’s heart cannot comprehend why he deserves to hear this now. But she offers no reason, says this as if it were always an unspoken truth, and maybe it was. She boards the taxi with her companion, and he watches them leave.

Is it ridiculous to feel so happy you could cry?

After Bokuto says goodbye to his own parents, they begin their journey back to the apartment. The night is pleasant, quiet and inconsequential, they hold hands on their way home.

Akaashi can tell that Bokuto is in a good mood, his hair stands at an impressive height and the smile he's worn for the whole night still rests upon his face. Content and satisfied, Bokuto swings their arms between them, slowly at first, but faster and more exaggerated as they continue to walk. Akaashi laughs at this and Bokuto raises their arms to give him a twirl.

Akaashi snorts at the theatrics but lets himself be spun, once, twice, before he's pulled in. Their eyes meet and Bokuto dips them down, before pulling them up again and laying one hand on his waist, the other outstretched.

"Dance with me," he whispers, they're outside, on a normal side street with hard pavement floors. No audience, and no resemblance of appropriate ambiance either, Akaashi still takes his hand.

They sway side to side, his cheek on Bokuto's shoulder, his partner guiding their impromptu dance. There's no music, just the backdrop of city noise, but Akaashi has never felt more content.

"You're in a good mood," he whispers, they both are. The night had gone exceedingly well, a reminder that their bubble remained supportive and filled with love.

"You're the best, Keiji," Bokuto replies without reason, he twirls him again, extends his arm away so that Akaashi can spin back into him. He catches him easily and they continue to sway.

"I should be telling you that," Akaashi admits, but there's no reason why they can't both be happy, so he takes the liberty of tilting his mouth towards his.

Bokuto immediately responds, pressing their lips together with passion and urgency, he feels Akaashi's hands in his hair, and brings him incredibly close. They break off with a giggle, there's a different electricity in the air. When Akaashi leans in to suggest that they head back, Bokuto allows him to lead the way.

It's hours later, after they've stumbled through dark and unsuspecting sharp edges, after they finally make it to bed and Akaashi treats him _so right_ , in the haze of the afterglow, while he's waiting for his partner to return from the shower, that Bokuto posts a photo of their family affair.

The online community, as always, has something to say.

.

**_MSBY's most spotted_** **@omiomination**  
Are they... you know? _👀_  
5🗨️ 7⟲ 42♡

> **_BEAM WEAPON🌟🦉 @bokutobeam_**  
>  [image attached]
> 
> **_bokuto's tiddies_** **@bokuakasupremacy**  
>  OMG DO YOU THINK? WHY WOULD HE POST THIS WITH A CAPTION  
>  0🗨️ 1⟲ 12♡
> 
> **_stuDYING mode_ @fried_eggs**  
>  no ring, it's clearly a bday party. why is everyone freaking out  
>  1🗨️ 0⟲ 0♡
> 
> **_msby rare pair conman_** **@himbokutoes**  
>  @bokutobeam NEVER POSTS HIS BF ADTER THE REVEAL, WHY NOW???  
>  0🗨️ 1⟲ 2♡
> 
> **_xx_ @hajimehatdogs**  
>  for attention, thats why. boring.  
>  0🗨️ 0⟲ 0♡

Bokuto wakes up satisfied, if not slightly sore from behind, he allows his boyfriend to continue to slumber as he prepares for the day. After his morning routine, he picks up his phone.

**_manifesting bkak_ @moiimoie**  
so the #BeamTeam is trending!! whens the wedding  
16🗨️ 7⟲ 128♡

**_Celebrity New Daily_** **@celebritynewsofficial**  
Netizens speculate as MSBY Jackals player, @bokutobeam, posts a cryptic family photo in the middle of the night. Although without a caption, fans are left wondering if this might be grounds for a future happy announcement. Our team has been in touch with their spokesperson to get the latest scoop.  
107🗨️ 413⟲ 753♡  
⟲ retweeted by _**beamteam dream**_ , _**bee art**_ , _**put your tongue back IN,**_ and 410 others

**_get a lyf_ @painkillerzz**  
they jjst came out right?? seems like a publicity stunt 2 me  
8🗨️ 2⟲ 0♡

I am in trouble, seems insufficient to describe the panic that surges through him. He already has several miscalls from public relations, multiple texts from friends and teammates, even his own family group chat is buzzing, as if they hadn't seen each other last night.

The worst part is that he is the clear culprit of this mess. His account is linked to the photo app, so the tweet auto posted when he published the picture last night. A snapshot of a private moment meant only for a few, now available for public consumption.

Every celebrity figure was smart enough to maintain both a professional and personal account, the image was meant for the latter. He should have waited after his sex-induced haze to post on social media, but he had been giddy with elation. It was a foolish mistaken, a momentarily lapse of professionalism.

Now that he reads through the gossip, Bokuto wonders how he could have ever forgotten his liabilities.

He shouldn't scroll through social media, this is PR's first rule, but once he starts, it isn’t long until he finds himself in a rabbit hole of his own rumor mill.

Fans have already identified the restaurant, they seem to know an unjust amount of information on his family, and even worst, they've properly deduced that the other pair was Akaashi's. Well, this is half-true, and Bokuto hopes that the internet sleuths would leave his partner's more personal details alone.

He makes his way into the kitchen, eyes never leaving his screen. The masochist in him does this as a self-inflicted punishment, he shouldn’t be allowed to escape the consequences of his mistakes.

In less than an hour, Akaashi will wake up to being the subject of discussion. Once again, he will experience the burdens of dating an athlete. Bokuto is a foil to their privacy, a thorn to their normal. Somewhere between chasing and achieving his dreams, the monkey's hand had curled into a paw.

He starts the coffee machine, goes through the motions robotically. Akaashi loves to wake up to the smell of coffee, it puts him in a good mood; Bokuto can manage as much.

And that's what Akaashi wakes up to, he emerges in an oversized shirt of Bokuto's, bare feet on the ground. He bypasses the warm cup waiting on the table to wrap his arms around Bokuto's waist.

"Why aren’t you in bed," he mumbles against his ear. Akaashi mourns the few morning they manage to share, between living in different spaces and their conflicting body clocks, waking up to cuddling is far in-between.

"I was planning to go back," Bokuto starts slowly, "but I got distracted."

Akaashi nuzzles into him further, already planning to coerce him back into bed, but his partner remains rigid to his touch. He looks up, "Is something wrong, love?"

Bokuto sighs, he removes Akaashi's hold and keeps him an arm's lengths away, "I have something I need to show you."

His fingers tremble as he hands over the phone. Akaashi takes it and scrolls through the media, his face remains passive.

Bokuto wishes that his partner would have a more immediate reaction- of anger, disappointment, hurt- any indication of what is to come. He has stomached looking through every post, he is ready to assume responsibility.

"They really stuck with the "Beam Team" for us, huh?" Akaashi remarks, "It's not the best, but it could certainly be worst. There's another- bkak, that just sounds like chicken noise."

Akaashi snorts at some of the comments, but he shows no sign of irritation, it should reassure Bokuto, but it does not.

"They're being ridiculous, of course, but we can't fault them for being excitable," Akaashi extends the phone back towards him, "unless we agreed to something I wasn't aware of last night? You did say some particularly enthusiastic things."

He's joking and Bokuto doesn't understand why. He needs to do damage control, get Akaashi off the internet, and release another statement. He shouldn't be allowed this amount of patience.

"Koutarou?" Akaashi finally asks, "Is there something wrong?"

Of course, something is wrong, this does not happen to normal couples. Something is wrong because Akaashi's mind hasn't caught up to the situation, while Bokuto's has already imagined the horrid details.

"Doesn't this disturb you," he asks tentatively. "Strangers are talking about proposals and marriage, but we haven't even begun to talk about the future yet."

Bokuto is bitter that netizens have soiled this conversation. The topic of their future has been on the tip of his tongue these past few months, it has taken all his restraint to wait for the right time.

"Haven't we though?" Akaashi looks confused. "We maintain our relationship despite the distance, practically share two spaces between us, we have our families' blessing- what more is there?"

Bokuto looks at him incredulously, the intensity makes Akaashi take a step back. While he states valid points, the future is bigger and much scarier than that.

"Taxes, Keiji-"

"Pardon?" he interjects.

"And insurance, and savings accounts, and healthcare, and all that other stuff- that's talking about the future!"

"I don't understand," Akaashi’s mind runs a million different scenarios, but he cannot fathom their converging definitions of what constituted discussing the future.

"I wanted to ask you to move in with me," Bokuto declares, "I wanted to be ready when I asked, have all the paperwork and plans figured out, maybe even present a proposal, like you do in the office.” He holds his hands up in defense, “I know it's a big step, but we've waited a long time for this. I wanted to prove to you that I could do this."

"What has changed then?" Akaashi does not like his use of past tense, those plans seem wonderful.

"I don't even know how to do the taxes," he admits, downtrodden, as if the revelation was akin to a great sin. "I've been trying to learn all sorts of things, but I can't seem to understand it all. I don't really know how payments work, or how to make sure our place is protected from fire."

Akaashi blinks, "Koutarou, those things are not important.”

"Of course, they are," he proclaims. "You need the best insurance in case you get sick, and also another type of insurance to keep your stuff safe, I just can't remember which. And I want a nice place for us with extra room for you to work, with no more leaky faucets or slippery floors, I know that's what you've always wanted," he continues his spiel, visibly getting more agitated.

"You deserve the best, Ji. I want to give you that," he declares, "I just need time to figure this out, to show you I have a plan. Ugh, I shouldn't have told you yet, I ruined it really.”

Akaashi finally reaches for him, an attempt to calm him down, both his palms shake.

"My love," he asks gently, "what is this really about?"

Back then, Akaashi’s insecurity on their financial disparity and career progression had been their biggest barriers to living together; they agreed to wait for the sake of both their professions. Over time, his once daunting concerns have settled into quiet recognition, a peace that came while settling into his workplace.

"Koutarou," he calls again, "you can tell me anything."

There is no reason for Bokuto to feel such strong hesitation over the natural progression of their relationship; they were each other's homes even without joint property.

"I am ready to take full responsibility," Bokuto doesn’t meet his gaze. "I just want to take care of you properly, Ji."

Akaashi still holds his palms, he repositions his grip, so he encapsulates both between his fingertips. "You already do, dear. I don't know what's gotten into your head, but you've always taken care of me."

Bokuto looks so sad. “Now that we’re public, you’ll never live a normal life. I’ll always bring you problems, there will be even more if we move in together. What if you need your space and I can’t give you that, I don’t want to be selfish when you’ve given me so much.”

 _Normal,_ Akaashi hates whenever that word escapes his partner's lips. It seems to be an unspoken wedge in their relationship, something he is still unable to comprehend.

“You’re not being selfish, I want this too,” how can he think otherwise.

“Keiji, I am a lot to handle,” Bokuto finally admits, “and don’t say that I am not, we both know it’s been overwhelming. I’ve been trying to compensate for all this,” he gestures to his phone, but he also to himself. “I want you to come home to a safe space and feel like you can depend on me.”

Bokuto shudders, curling his shoulders and feeling so small. “But I am always doing something wrong, every time I try to handle something, I make you worry instead. You’ve been so brave lately while I’ve been falling behind.”

Tears make their way down his cheeks, a manifestation of his insecurity. The past months have been hard on his conscience, the ever-present feeling of never being enough. And while Akaashi doesn't hold him to impossible standards, he expects better of himself.

"I just want to hold your hand," he whimpers, "in public, without drawing too much attention to us. You shouldn't have to deal with all this uncertainty, I should have thought of a better plan to take care of you."

He had wanted this, wanted to be understood by the public so desperately, but was ill-prepared to deal with the weight. Akaashi did not deserve this. 

"But it will never be normal for us, no matter how hard I try, it's just impossible," a declaration of defeat, of inevitability. "I'd give you the world, Keiji. I thought I could change and make it easier for you, but this is the life you'll have if you stay with me."

So, he hands the world back its gift, a complete surrender. “I love you, so much. I just want what’s best for you, even if that’s no longer me.”

For a moment, there’s complete silence between the two, broken only by the sobs Bokuto lets out. He’s struggling to remain strong after the declaration, but Akaashi can tell that he regrets it already. He should, what a foolish statement.

"You were the one who told me that we were never breaking up," he starts, and Bokuto chokes in recognition. "You said this while I was in university, you were willing to wait, and I've made you wait for a long time. Even now, after everything's that happened, you are still waiting."

He squeezes their palms together; he holds the shiniest star between them. “I’ve never once thought of you as a burden. I love you, there are no ifs and buts with me.” Bokuto's tears fall, the weight of reassurance is heavy.

“I will, however, hold you accountable for that ridiculous offer you made. What’s best for me is you, it’s always been you, there’s no room for such slander here.” Bokuto mumbles a quiet _sorry_ between tears, relieved at his proposal being rejected.

"These past days have been heavy for you. I was unaware of how much you’ve been hurting; I apologize for not seeing that,” Bokuto shakes his head in protest, communication is a two-way streak. “You say that I’ve been brave, as if this were an inherent trait of mine, but this is far from the truth.”

Akaashi thinks of courage, several years in the making, a prize to be won after a magnitude of struggled. “In the same way you’ve been at your best for me, I've been preparing myself for you too, love. I am ready for you, all of you."

He soothes his partner’s tears, a thumb over his left eye, then his right.

"You belong to the world, you're bright and brilliant in what you do. I've always been certain that you'd go far," Akaashi smiles, determined and unafraid. "But you belong to me too, your heart and your kindness, the good and bad parts, I want them all.”

"And you say that nothing about this is easy," he adds, and Bokuto nods. "But you are so easy to love, Koutarou; being with you is the easiest thing for me."

“Kei-ji,” Bokuto mumbles in between sobs, he takes him into his arms and presses snot against his shoulder. “I'll try my best, I really will.”

Akaashi wraps his arms around him, "We are partners, and you're my best friend; the weight isn't just yours to carry. It's always been my greatest honor to share my life with you, we can figure this out together."

Bokuto readily accepts his offer, he feels the metaphorical weight ease within him. He sinks further into Akaashi embrace and mumbles, "You're the best, Keiji."

Akaashi laughs, leaning from the weight of him. "I am really not; I don't know how to do my taxes either."

"What," Bokuto halts, Akaashi repositions his hold, "but you went to university, how could you not know?"

"They don't teach us anything practical in school," Akaashi snorts, "and everything is done by my employer, I don't know any more about this than you do."

Bokuto whines that he does know more about this, considering he's been taking notes these past months. His knowledge is not perfect, but Akaashi concedes that he will have to take the lead on this one. 

"I hope this won't change anything," he teases, hand tangled in his locks, "I didn't know our relationship was contingent on our financial literacy."

Bokuto laughs at this and hugs him harder, “You’re dating a known tax offender, if you haven’t left me yet, I doubt this will ever be an issue.” He says this as a joke but Akaashi wants to wipe any lingering doubt.

He spots the magazine from the corner of his eye, Bokuto’s cover issue of Volleyball Monthly Magazine, laying on their table. The interview sparked an online controversy that triggered his partner’s spiral. Bokuto hadn’t looked at the volume the same way again.

He breaks free from his partner’s hug and moves to pick it up, Bokuto whines in protest.

“Why are you looking at magazine-me again?” he asks, but Akaashi pays him no attention.

He opens the magazine to the pages of Bokuto's interview, his understated stats, and his model-esque spread. He takes him all in, his glory and ambition, the weight of public perception.

"People will always have something to say," Akaashi traces the printed material with his fingertips. "Sometimes they’ll be unkind, more often than not, they’ll be wrong. We have no control over that."

Bokuto wants to snatch the magazine and throw it far away, but Akaashi seems determined to finish his spiel. The abrupt change in his priorities so attuned to the weirdness Bokuto has grown to love.

He won’t mourn the loss, Akaashi thinks as he rips the page, a thin strip in the middle of the spread, cutting through his image in a jagged tear. Bokuto gasps, not at the ruined spread, but at the surrealness of the act itself.

Akaashi holds the thin piece of paper, then he gestures to his partner. "Bokuto Koutarou, you are the love of my life," he declares in their small kitchenette.

Bokuto is blindsided, "Y-You are mine too, Ji."

"Good," he mumbles, and takes Bokuto’s hand to lay before him. Akaashi gets to work, twisting the thin paper around his partner's fingers, over and under, into a lopsided knot- a makeshift promise ring.

"This I have control of," he explains, Bokuto looks at his work in amazement, "my feelings for you, our life together, I don't want you to ever doubt my devotion. I’ve chosen you for longer than you know."

He cradles his hand like a reason, a promise to be there through tabloid slander and everyday mundanities. Bokuto stares at the paper ring adorning his finger, a lifetime ahead flashes before his eyes.

“O-Of course, we’ll do it on our own time,” Akaashi adds, ears red at his bold gesture. “We’re still young, and we shouldn’t let public speculation inspire our engagement, I just wanted you to know.”

Bokuto feels his heart expand tenfold, the happiness he feels is indescribable. He's been told before that young love is foolish, but there will never be another person like Akaashi.

"I love you," he tells him, "I love you so much Keiji, I'll take care of you forever." He stumbles in his enthusiasm to pick him up. Arms come to lift him from the grown, Akaashi immediately wraps his legs around his waist.

"I love you," Bokuto says again because he can. Akaashi giggles into his neck, full trust that they won’t tumble, "You're the best, Keiji. I am the absolute luckiest to have you."

Bokuto swings them around the kitchen, bare feet dancing around the cracks in their floors. Akaashi secretly can’t wait to retire his studio apartment, this place couldn’t possibly contain all this love.

As if sensing his thoughts, Bokuto leans into whisper, “Build a home with me.”

A proposal several months in the making, between bouts of domesticity and nights piled on top of single beds. Time has proven that anything can be learnt, whether it be bravery or financial literacy.

Akaashi laughs, “Haven’t we already started?”

**_MSBY Black Jackals Official_** **@msby_official**  
We would like to dispel any rumors on @bokutobeam’s engagement. The #BeamTeam is happy and committed, but not currently engaged. Let’s all greet our favorite ace a happy birthday!  
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.

"The flowers are very becoming of you, Akaashi-san."

A sigh, "I shall put them in the appropriate place, he went a bit overboard with the gift."

Akaashi clutches a bouquet of red roses, grandiose in its appearance, a strong statement in the middle of a more serious event; however, this did not deter the sender.

"Don't be ridiculous, you don't have to hide your happiness," Udai smiles at the deadpan stare his editor shoots him. "Besides, it's a celebration, and you've more than earned it."

It's more of a beginning rather than a celebration, but Akaashi does not correct him. It could be both, because today marks a triumph, the official serialization of their new manga, Meteo Attack.

"I think you should hold onto this then," Akaashi hands him flowers, it nearly shields the mangaka's face with its size. "You are today's star and it's best that everyone be reminded."

Akaashi has been on the receiving end of stares and giggle from his female coworkers. He’s already been approached by starry-eyed colleagues with comments on the wonders of young love and too-curious questions on private matters. Perhaps his crowd is becoming too supportive of his personal life.

"Fine, be that way," Udai holds the bouquet proudly. "At least Boku-kun will see someone appreciative of his gift when he arrives. I'll even thank him for his support."

Udai stands tall and unabashed. He's visibly in a good mood, the happiest and healthiest he’s been in months. No longer a zombie himself, finally free to roam with the living.

"Should I be worried that you're on a nickname basis with my partner?" Akaashi has tried, with all his might, to maintain a shred of professionalism, but both men seemed determined to oppose.

"Considering how long you were on a last name basis with him, I reckon you should," Udai sticks his tongue out and Akaashi lets him have his victory.

The launch party is a private affair, a small commemoration to mark their manga’s official release. Attendees include select media outlets, some guests, and Shonen Vai staff of all levels.

The room is adorned with cardboard stands of the characters, posters of their volume cover, and select merchandise. Akaashi sees pieces of himself on display with every item and feels dignified at being surrounded by material he’s had a hand in crafting.

Udai gets called to prepare for the press, he nods at Akaashi before he leaves.

The editor scouts the room for a place to settle. Some coworkers from the marketing team rush pass him as the media comes in, while their counterparts in logistics direct the crew behind the scenes. Everyone has their role, a different means to achieve their shared goal, and today Akaashi feels like he’s part of a team.

"Oh my, you should have come as a celebrity guest. You have quite the number of fans here."

"I am no celebrity today," and there he is, the love of his life, bright and distinguishable even under the most casual of outfits, "I am just here as the head editor's biggest fan."

Nami-san, senior editor and proud mother, gushes at his comment. “Of course,” she gestures. "How wonderful of you to support your lover. They just don't make young men like you anymore."

Bokuto receives the compliment with a shy wave and red cheeks. Akaashi spares himself a moment to watch his beloved converse with his co-worker, casual and without consequence, he is momentarily grateful that they’re here- out and in public, and the world has chosen to let this be.

Akaashi is free to walk across the room, join the conversation, and hold his partner’s hand in greeting. “Hey there,” he interjects, and Nami squeals in delight at the display.

"And there he is," Bokuto intertwines their fingers, locking him in like a prize, "my ultra-talented and successful boyfriend!"

The declaration catches the attention of some onlookers. Considering the topic of their manga, some volleyball enthusiasts were sure to be lurking within the crowd. But Akaashi can almost feel the butterflies emanating from other colleagues who just recognize them for them.

"My my," Nami-san smiles, "I shall leave you both to enjoy yourselves, my husband is also around here; let's take a picture later, Akaashi-kun."

The editor nods at her offer and she bids him farewell. Now alone, Akaashi seats them both a respectable distance away from the stage.

"This looks amazing, Keiji- everyone's here!" Bokuto gestures excitedly at the set-up, then at the crowds. "You've worked your absolute hardest. How are you feeling?"

The last months have been a whirlwind of complexities. From the great debacle of deciding on a protagonist, to creating the first drafts of the chapters, to finally having everything on print; it was a battle worth fighting for.

"I am happy," he replies, simple and easy, Bokuto squeezes his hand.

The conference starts with a brief background on Shonen Vai and their mission to deliver stories that inspire human greatness and transcend imagination. They have a run through of their more successful titles, what to look forward to this upcoming year, and then, finally-

"Meteo Attack is a manga on volleyball and friendship, we'll be offering the audience a sneak peek on what to expect later," the hosts addresses the mangaka. "But tell us, Udai-san, what would you like readers to take from you work?"

Udai immediately straightens, he leans into the microphone with an instant answer, "I want my audience to think- volleyball is really fun!"

From the stage, their eyes meet, and Udai shoots him a smile that says- _isn't that right?_ Akaashi feels his chest swell with fondness, they've both come a long way.

Of course, Udai expounds on the topic and how he was inspired by his own roots playing volleyball. "You don't need to know the sport to enjoy," he says, "we'll teach you the basics and you'll learn along the way. There's so many things to discover, it's not just a sport, or competition, there are some things that exist beyond the court."

"Teammates, friends, mentors," he cites, "it's all about love, dreams, and determination. You might not know it yet but let us take you on this journey."

The host commends his honest answer and the interview continues. Akaashi takes in their audience, a mix basket of reactions, from enthusiasm to indifference. This does not deter him; he is more than ready to fight for their story and slowly gain their favor.

Bokuto is attuned to Udai's answers, nodding enthusiastically to statements he feels strongly for. It's odd to have his personal and professional life converge so seamlessly, but Akaashi doesn't question the wins he is given.

"EVERYONE ALWAYS THINKS OF TALL PLAYERS WHEN IT COMES TO VOLLEYBALL, YOU'LL SOON FIND OUT THAT YOU'RE ALL WRONG."

There he is- the celebrity guest they had invited from the professional league. A small but boisterous player that immediately hopped onto their idea with a unparalleled vigor from the moment of its conception, much to Akaashi's ire.

"WE'RE GOING TO SHOW YOU THAT TRUE VOLLEYBALL SKILL DOESN'T COME FROM JUST HEIGHT," and with that, the professional player proceeds to grab Udai's hand and raise this in a joint declaration of unity; the mangaka just laughs.

"Such shamelessness," Akaashi rubs his temples, "after the great lengths I went to sell your character, he goes and chooses a different white-haired player as inspiration."

Akaashi mutters underneath his breath, Bokuto just laughs and tries to soothe his qualms. "You're just a bit biased, don't you think?"

Akaashi protests that he is clearly the superior choice, biases be damned, Bokuto puts a hand on his shoulder.

"We already get enough attention as is, I think we should allow other players to hold the spotlight sometimes, yea?" Bokuto laughs at his disgruntled look. The interview has completely gone off-tangent, with the topic of height being thoroughly debated on.

But Akaashi lets this be, he leans into his partner's shoulder, Bokuto has an arm around his waist. Later, Bokuto will tweet a photo of their private celebration and personally commend the team for a successful launch. Notifications will be turned off before any comments can come through.

"Excuse me, Akaashi-san," a staff member calls, "We'll be having a staff photo at the end of the event, please be ready."

Bokuto makes a display of ruffling his hair and parting this properly. He tugs at Akaashi's collar and aligns his work badge, no shame in doting on your partner.

"There," he says, admiring his handiwork, "now you look perfect."

No stroke of mastery is needed for the fix-up, but Akaashi allows himself to be coddled. Bokuto flashes him the biggest smile before he heads towards the stage.

Their team is small and intimate, more resources will be dedicated to their project should it become more popular, but now they stand in one row.

Udai is in the middle, holding a familiar red bouquet, Akaashi by his side. There are co-workers from creatives, literature, and marketing; all bearing the same mission of proving that volleyball is fun.

Bokuto pulls out his phone and stands next to the official photographers. He bends to get the right angle, tilts his shoulders against equally enthusiastic guests, but no one faults him for needing to capture this moment.

_click, click_

The lights go off, people adjust, and more shots are taken. The ordeal lasts longer than anticipated.

During the last round, Akaashi's eyes find his within his screen. He gives his happiest look, soft corners crinkling upwards in delight, an unabashed smile on his face, Bokuto takes the shot.

It's the first photo he hangs in their new apartment.

**_Shonen Vai_** **@shonenvai_official**  
A new year brings new releases! We're excited to announce the serialization of Meteo Attack this winter. Join our protagonist, Boshiumi Hokuto, a boy determined to be a great volleyball player despite his small stature!  
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**Author's Note:**

> If you missed any references check my beginning notes on stuff that happened in the light novel. Consider leaving a kudos if you've reached this point!
> 
> Is this a slowburn to them living together? Yes. I just wanted to write domestic bkak being at their personal definitions of best for each other. And Udai friendship on both ends, I absolutely loved writing him again.  
> What can I say besides, due to the length, I went through a lot of ups and downs to get this done. Lots of trouble with work, finding my comfort zone, and overcoming failures, kinda like the characters here. The grace to accept failure, hope in moving forward, and the patience to see everything fall into place.
> 
> This series isn’t over, but I’ll be writing some shorts in between to cleanse my pallet, subscribe to me and this series so you won’t miss any releases.  
> I greatly appreciate comments and kudos, you guys motivate me to write more! Tell me your favorite parts.
> 
> I also write and talk about bkak on [twitter](https://twitter.com/itsfluffyham) | [tumblr](https://fluffysparklyham.tumblr.com/), it’s a super fun time. See you there!


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